Hot Under My Skin
by Ittlebitz
Summary: Witches and their guardians worked as a team to protect humanity until a curse broke the bond and guardians became hunters, now hunting what they had sworn to protect. Blaine leads the Warblers, hunters who have vowed to fight the compulsion to shed witch blood. Kurt doesn't know he's a powerful earth witch. When a curse brings them together, attraction is only one danger they face
1. Death Mark Day 1

**Title:** Hot Under My Skin

**Author:** Ittlebitz

**Pairing:** Klaine

**Rating:** NC-17 over all, PG this chapter

**Warnings for this chapter: **Reference to character death (non Klaine, but a beloved character nonetheless...), dark themes including references to blood, mild sexual content

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. I don't own Glee or any of it's characters. I do own a copy of the book Blood Magic. I read it and loved it, recently read it again, and somehow found myself thinking, "Geez, this would be even hotter if this were a Kurt and Blaine fic!" (I probably should join a 12 step program or something...)

**Summary:** AU. For centuries, witches and their guardians have worked as a team to protect humanity from demons. But a curse has broken the bond, and now the guardians are the hunters, driven by a terrible compulsion to hunt and kill what they once were sworn to protect. And the price for killing a witch is their soul.

Kurt Hummel doesn't know anything about magic. But he is about to discover something about himself. For not only is he a witch, he is the key to breaking the curse.

Blaine Anderson is the leader of the group known as The Warblers, mighty hunters known for their bird tattoos and who have sworn to never shed the blood of earth witches. But when his sister is cursed by a demon witch, Blaine must find an earth witch to save her.

Kurt can help...if he can learn to master the powerful magic that is his birthright. And Blaine has to control the compulsion to either kill Kurt and absorb his blood...or possess him for his own.

**Author's note:** One thing to note in this story is that as a Hunter, Blaine and his friends are big men. Bigger, taller, more muscular, and shall we say, definitely not lacking in that one particular area. I know that canon Blaine is small in stature, but for this story, not so much.

* * *

**Death Mark Day 1**

The whispers were nothing new.

Kurt Hummel followed behind his father's elegant black casket as they left the Lima Funeral Home to go to the gravesite at the cemetery next door. Acting the part of funeral director had given him focus and somehow had kept him from dissolving into a mass of misery and grief. He had been grateful and honored to oversee each detail of the service that celebrated Burt Hummel's life and show the community how well loved and respected his father had been. He would not let the whispers affect him.

_"They always called him Porcelain in school, just as pale, just as cold..."_

_"I heard some of the jocks were afraid of him..."_

_"Hush! Kurt took good care of your grandmother's car when it had trouble. He's been nothing but sweet to us..."_

_"He found my cat for me when she was lost. He just knew where she was."_

_"Word is that his grandfather hated him..."_

_"There's something strange about him..."_

Kurt stiffened and drew up straight, his black Armani suit jacket drawing tight across his back. He flinched slightly when he felt a heavy arm cross his shoulders and draw him close to a warm body. Kurt glanced up at Finn Hudson. Finn and his mother, Carol, were as close to family as Kurt had now. Burt and Carol had been dating for a time when Burt got sick, and Carol stayed by his side throughout and up until the end. Finn was tall and had always been muscular from playing sports in high school, but his time in Special Forces had reformed his body into a tightly muscled machine. A machine that could kill if need be. And judging from the tightness of his jaw at that moment, Kurt knew he wanted to lash out and hit someone.

"Just ignore them," he said softly. Finn barely nodded in reply.

It wasn't a promise, but Kurt knew it was the best he would get. It had been over seven years that Finn had left Lima, Ohio, full of excitement about changing the world and intending to regain the family honor he felt had been lost by his birth father. When he had returned a few months ago, he was a different person. Gone was the happy-go-lucky goofball, and in his place was a man who was grim and often seemed disconnected, as though he cared little whether he lived or died. But when Burt suffered another heart attack that had left him weakened and with significant damage to his heart, Finn moved back home to help Carol and Kurt care for him and keep the family business, Hummel Tire and Lube, running. Finn would do chores around the house and yard and tended to Burt when Carol and Kurt had their jobs to perform. Anything that needed to be done, Finn would do with no complaint, and he brushed off any thanks with an almost irritated manner, stating emphatically that family was everything. And he considered Burt and Kurt family.

The two young men stopped at the grave. It was surrounded by floral arrangements and greenery was woven around the canopy poles. Finn moved to sit next to Carol, whose reddened eyes and pale, tear streaked face gave testimony to her grief. When Finn placed his arm around her, she turned to him with a low sob and buried her face in his shoulder, seeking what comfort she could. Kurt took his place at the podium set up and cleared his throat. He could feel the reassuring weight of his father's last gift, a silver Celtic knot of intricate swirls and loops that he wore on a chain around his neck, and felt a slight sense of comfort. He gazed out at the crowd gathered there.

"My loved ones and I would like to thank you for being here today. My father told me to tell you all that each one of you brought him happiness and joy, and he cherished each of you. His final request of all of us was that we not grieve for him, but that we instead celebrate our lives and embrace our families and loved ones." Kurt closed his eyes and swallowed twice to dislodge the lump in his throat that held the promise of tears. He looked out at the assembled mourners and felt his heart warm at seeing so many who had cared about Burt Hummel. "After the service, there will be a reception inside. We would be pleased if you would join us."

Kurt stepped down and took the seat on Carol's other side. He was grateful that he hadn't had to plan the reception, instead entrusting the task to his best friend Tina Cohen-Chang, and his former classmate and newly hired receptionist at the shop, Quinn Fabray. They were inside the mortuary in the reception room, setting up the food and drinks. Kurt let his mind wander as the minister prayed, not paying much attention to words said to a deity he didn't believe in, but appreciating the heartfelt sentiment just the same. In just a few minutes, the words would be said that would send his father to his final resting place. The crowd filed past the casket one final time to drop roses on top. Many were crying and a few approached Kurt to hug him.

"You did your daddy proud, son," Reverend Jones said as he placed a firm but comforting hand on Kurt's shoulder.

Kurt stood and walked to stand by his father's casket one final time, idly caressing the shiny finish. "Thank you, sir. We planned this together. I just followed his wishes." Burt's last months had been both a blessing and a curse as he had steadily grown weaker and weaker until his damaged heart finally beat its last.

Two stragglers passed by on their way to the reception. One remarked to the other in a voice that carried, "Strange that he doesn't cry, not even for his father."

The minister's face tightened and then he shook his head. "Burt knew you loved him, Kurt. He was always so proud of you. This is your final gift to him and you pulled it together beautifully."

Kurt almost cried then, but hugged him instead. "Thank you. Believe it or not, that really helps."

Reverend Jones inclined his head. "Do you want me to walk you in?"

Kurt shook his head. "I want to stay here for a few more minutes."

The preacher nodded his head and again placed his hand on Kurt's shoulder before heading inside.

Kurt was finally alone. He took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of recently cut grass and freshly turned dirt mixed with the almost sickly sweet scent of flowers and a hint of rain in the air. Reverend Jones was right. He had done Burt proud. That felt good; it felt right. Burt had adopted him as his own when he was only a baby. No matter how odd a child Kurt turned out to be, no matter that he was gay, no matter the dissent amongst Burt's own family, Burt's love had remained rock steady. Always.

"I'm going to give the house to Finn, Dad. Carol wants to leave. She wants to go live with her sister in Chicago. Start over. I don't blame her and I think it'll be good for her. But Finn wants to stay here. And I've thought about this a lot. He needs something, a constant where he is comfortable and knows he has that anchor. And I just...I can't, Dad. I can't live there. Not any more. But Finn..."

Kurt's words faltered as the air took on a sudden deep chill. He snapped his head up and looked around. There was a young couple a little way up the path in front of him, and to his right was two women standing at a headstone while a man knelt in front of it. One of the women caught Kurt's eye and noticed where he stood. She gave him a sympathetic nod before turning her attention back to her companions. They all looked like normal visitors to the cemetery.

Kurt dropped his gaze and shut his eyes for a brief moment. "I guess I'm just tired. Anyway, about Finn-"

He felt it again. This time chills rand down his back and the hair on his arms and at the back of his neck stood up. His heartbeat sped up until it pounded against his rib cage. He whirled around to look towards the canopy.

A man was there, standing next to the chair Kurt had sat in for the funeral. He was tall and had on a long black coat. He had a large build but there was something off in his appearance, something Kurt couldn't quite place. _Pull yourself together, Kurt. He's probably a late mourner._He took a deep breath, noticing a sudden coppery smell. "I'm sorry, you startled me. Are you here for my dad?" The man was probably an acquaintance of Burt's or a shop customer that he just hadn't met.

The big man stared at him. "I'm here for you, Kurt."

The man's eyes were vacant and a cruel golden green. Kurt broke into a cold sweat. A voice inside his head screamed _Run!_Kurt shivered, then turned and ran. The soles of his shoes slid slightly in the wet grass. He stopped and turned back. The man was still standing there watching him with a nasty smirk playing on his full lips.

Fear spread hot and bitter in the back of his throat. He reached down and tugged off his shoes. When he looked up again, the man was gone.

Vanished.

_Run!_

Terror pulsed deep inside him and he ran towards the mortuary. His breath hitched in his throat. It was still too far, at least thirty or forty yards...

"Kurt!"

It was Finn striding towards him from the right, Quinn by his side. Kurt turned and ran towards him. His lungs burned and his legs felt weak. He couldn't get rid of the metallic taste of fear in his mouth.

Finn caught him in his arms, lifting him up and spinning with the momentum. "What's wrong?" Finn asked as he set Kurt back on the ground and whipped back around, keeping Kurt at his back.

Tears burned Kurt's eyes at the protective gesture. Finn had always looked out for him. Their parents might not have ever officially married, but the feelings and intent had been there, and Finn and Kurt considered themselves brothers.

"Kurt, are you okay?" Quinn asked, her huge blue eyes full of worry.

Hot embarrassment began to build in the middle of Kurt's chest and he could feel the flush spreading across his cheeks and down his neck. What exactly had he panicked over? "I think I might have just made a fool of myself."

Finn's sharp eyes scanned the surrounding area one more time and then turned to look at Kurt. "You look terrified. What happened?" His brows drew together in a frown and anger flashed in his brown eyes. "Was somebody bothering you? One of those jerks-"

Kurt shrugged, then grimaced as he slid one of his now damp feet back into one of his shoes. He would have to get them back off soon enough, he didn't want to ruin them. "This guy just freaked me out."

Finn snorted. "That's a switch. It's usually the other way around."

Kurt rolled his eyes and balanced to brush some grass off his other foot before putting on the other shoe. He straightened up and said, "He startled me. I never heard him walk up, he was just...there. I asked him if he was here for Dad, and he said 'I'm here for you, Kurt.' " Kurt groaned as he thought it over. "I made something up in my head, didn't I? Now that I say it out loud, he probably just meant he was here to support me at the funeral or something." He was startled again when Quinn suddenly grabbed his arm.

"What did he look like, Kurt?"

The fear suddenly coming off of Quinn prickled Kurt's skin and nearly made him step back. In high school, Quinn had been the popular captain of the cheerleaders while Kurt had spent most of his time awkwardly trying to figure out how to fit in, yet somehow they had managed to be friends. Something had changed Quinn, though. Kurt frowned as he tried to answer.

"Well, he had black hair and these weird goldish colored eyes. And there was something off about his face. It was almost...well, _delicate._" Kurt grimaced at using the term that had been used by others in reference to himself so often in the past.

"A small guy?" asked Finn.

Kurt shook his head. "No. Big guy. Tall, maybe even taller than you. He had on a black knee length suede coat and black slacks on under that."

Quinn's frightened eyes darted around the cemetery and she placed her now icy cold hand back on Kurt's arm. She opened her mouth and then grimaced before saying, "I need to tell you something. But I can't seem to remember what exactly..." She reached up and started rubbing her temples, closing her eyes as though she were in pain.

"Quinn, you need to eat something. You've been working since this morning," Finn said.

Kurt silently agreed. That was true. But he had felt the fear in Quinn. After being gone from Lima for a few years, she had returned, troubled and scared. But then again, Kurt himself had just raced across a cemetery as though the hounds of Hell had been after him, so who was he to judge? "Let's go inside. I'm acting like an escapee from a nuthouse and Quinn is forgetting things. We could all use some food and there are guests waiting."

Finn put his hand on Kurt's shoulder, his touch warm and protective. "I'll look around inside. If that guy's there, I'll get his story."

Kurt looked up at him and managed a small half smile. "Thanks." It made him feel better that Finn took him seriously even though he himself felt like an utter ass. What on Earth had possessed him to run away?

It was late by the time Kurt arrived home to his small apartment. The only thing that had gotten him through the last few hours was the promise of a hot shower and a glass of wine. He lived in a ground floor unit that overlooked the courtyard. On a sunny day it was pleasant with benches shaded by some large, old oak trees with sprawling branches that bent and twisted. But tonight, it seemed overly dark and shadowy with too many hiding places.

Kurt shook his head in disgust. His imagination was definitely in overdrive. Were it anyone else with these feelings, he would think they were overwrought.

He hurried to his front door and quickly slid the key in to unlock it. As soon as he was inside, he closed the door and slid the deadbolt home, followed by the chain lock. He took a deep breath, feeling just a little calmer. He slid his feet out of his dress shoes and ruefully inspected the inside of them, sure they would never be quite the same ever again. He glanced up at the tapestry hanging over his brick fireplace, then took a closer look. It had hung there since he had moved in, but tonight, somehow, it looked _brighter._

It pictured a golden brown cat sitting on a silver box and looking down into a still lake. Behind the cat, mountains shadowed in pink and lilac rose up. The cat and mountains cast odd reflections into the lake. When he had been younger, Kurt would find himself mesmerized by staring at the picture, trying to make out images in the lake surface. Sometimes it almost looked like the threads were moving. And tonight it seemed clearer and more vibrant.

The tapestry was the only possession Kurt had that had been his biological mother's. Burt had never spoken much about the adoption, but he had hung the tapestry in Kurt's bedroom while he was growing up. His grandfather, Burt's father, who had lived with them at the time, had hated it. But Burt had steadfastly refused to let him touch it.

Why had Elizabeth left it with Kurt?

He had never really thought much about it before. It had always just been there. But just before Burt had died, he had dropped a bombshell on Kurt. He had signed him up with an online birth parent search agency. He had told Kurt that it was time for him to learn who he was and where he came from.

Kurt bowed his head. He should probably comply with Burt's wishes and follow up with searching for his birth parents, but his grief for his dad was too fresh to make a decision.

He went into his bedroom and took a hot shower. When he finished, he pulled on a pair of gray yoga pants and an old white T-shirt that was soft from repeated washings. He left his hair damp and padded barefoot into the kitchen. He poured himself a glass of wine and fixed a plate of cheese and crackers, then carried everything to the small breakfast nook and sat at the table. He turned on his laptop to check email and saw that there were a few of condolence.

Kurt took a sip of wine and started replying to the emails, occasionally pausing to pop a cheese topped cracker into his mouth or sip his wine. When he finished, he realized that some of the tension had left his shoulders, his headache had eased, and the soft murmuring voices in his head had quietened.

His laptop made a dinging noise to indicate a new email message. The subject line said _Warning._ Without even thinking, he clicked the email to open it. The message was short. _The hunters have found you! They will kill you!_

Shocked, Kurt set down his wineglass. What the hell was this? The noise in his head grew to a loud buzz and fear pounded in his chest. He tried to breathe calmly, sure that he was overreacting, just as he had with the man at the cemetery. He had probably read the email wrong in his utter mental and emotional exhaustion. He leaned in closer and read it again.

_The hunters have found you! They will kill you!_

What hunters? Why would they look for him or want to kill him? Was this some kind of joke, crass and poorly timed? Kurt looked to see who had sent the message. What he saw made his mouth go dry and unease skitter up his spine like icy fingers. The cheese and wine turned his stomach queasy.

This didn't make any sense at all.

The email was from _him._

* * *

Blaine Anderson prowled through his nightclub and tried to wash down his rising compulsion with another beer. Then another.

Alcohol didn't help, it never did. Only sex took off edge off the terrible building pressure to hunt and kill.

"The place is packed tonight," remarked Mike Chang as he walked up beside him.

Blaine glanced at his friend and shrugged. Scandals had been an instant success from the moment he opened its doors a little over a year ago. The club filled up nightly with men looking for relief from the evil they carried inside of them. The decor reflected that idea, all black and red. The bars on either side were topped with a shiny black lacquer finish that reflected the red lighting and gave the appearance of dancing flames. The dance floors were edged with the same lacquer and red lights. There were two black caged brick fire pits surrounded by black and red leather seating. At various points there were carved gargoyles and fire breathing dragons. Black lighting with red and purple lights mixed in added to the hellish effect.

Blaine gave Mike an inquisitive look. He knew he hadn't just come to shoot the breeze. "So, what's up?"

Mike's dark brown eyes scanned sharply over the club. "Hell if I know. But there's something."

Blaine nodded. He felt uneasy, too. Fuck. "A witch?"

Mike's eyes shifted to meet Blaine's. "There's no way in hell. I would know. And so would you." He jerked his head briefly in the direction of one of the fire pits. "_They_would know."

Blaine narrowed his eyes as he looked the men over. There were four of them, all wearing casual clothes and long jackets that concealed the long bladed knives they always carried. They were witch hunters, but not the usual kind that came in looking to relax or hook up. "Did you happen to see their palms?"

Mike took a long swig of his beer. "Yep. Smooth as polished glass."

Blaine nodded, his suspicions confirmed. "Rogues." He drained the beer in his hand. Rogue hunters had no lifeline. None of the lines normally found on the palm of the hand. _That's what happens when you lose your soul,_he thought dryly to himself. "More and more hunters are losing the battle with the curse and going rogue. Question is, why are they here?"

"The hawk," Mike stated as though the answer were perfectly obvious.

Yeah. Blaine knew they wanted to spy on the man wearing the hawk tattoo. See what he would do. The large tattoo on Blaine's back almost seemed to grow warm. He turned to stare at Mike. "You know Wes is just fucking with us. I told him I wanted a raven. He ignored me and gave me a hawk instead. He thinks he's hilarious."

"Bullshit," Mike said dryly. "I was standing right there the entire fucking time. I watched him ink your back with black feathers that turned gold and brown before the ink dried. Even the shape of the bird shifted. It was some freaky shit. The Slayer chose you as a leader."

Blaine reached behind the bar and took another beer. All they wanted to do was keep their souls. They had been born witch hunters, a breed of men with a long and honorable history of justice and protection. They had been immortal, the unstoppable guardians of the earth witches, highly evolved women and a few men with powers drawn from the earthly elements to protect, heal, and assist mortals while hunting down and destroying demon witches. But now, thanks to over twenty years of a blood and sex curse, Blaine and Mike fought a dark compulsion for witch blood, a compulsion that could destroy them and their very soul. "What do rogues care if I have a hawk tat?" he asked as he easily popped the top off his beer and took a long swallow.

Mike shrugged. "Your hawk tat indicates that the Slayer is alive. If he is, the rogues are royally fucked. They come here to keep an eye on you and try to figure out what you'll do. Something changed that tattoo, Blaine. And it wasn't Wes."

"Guess it sucks to be soulless rogues," Blaine remarked nonchalantly. Without their soul, when a hunter died he would become a shade, banished to walk between the worlds in never ending agony.

"Alistair Young has convinced the rogues that if they kill all the witches it will break the curse and their souls will return."

Blaine snorted in disgust. "Alistair Young is the one who should be afraid of the Slayer. That bastard renounced Him." Blaine turned to fix his gaze on Mike. "His doing that combined with the demon witch curse caused the break between the Slayer and the hunters."

Mike studied Blaine intently. "So you do believe the Slayer is alive then?"

Blaine nodded. "I do. I believe it, but what the fuck I'm supposed to do about it is something else altogether. Why would he tag me as the leader of the witch hunters? We can't protect earth witches, we can't even get within smelling distance or we risk losing control and killing them ourselves."

Mike studied Blaine, his dark eyes sweeping over his face thoughtfully. "Bad tonight?"

The better question was when wasn't it? There were nights Blaine dreamed of sliding his knife into a witch, feeling the bliss of their power-laced blood coating his skin and sinking into him. The he would wake covered in sweat and terrified that it had actually happened. Or would happen. "Bad enough," he shortly answered Mike.

"Go. Go get some relief. I'll keep an eye on the rogues," Mike said.

Blaine nodded once. "Give Puck, Wes and Sam a heads up that we have company." The rest of the group of hunters known as The Warblers were all elsewhere in the club.

"You got it," Mike replied as he strode off.

Relief for witch hunters came from the sex part of the curse. Only sex would ease back the craving for witch blood. Blaine headed for one of the bars. There were several women gathered around it, but that wasn't what Blaine was looking for. He zeroed in on a guy with blond curly hair wearing tight jeans and a black v-neck t-shirt that clung to him like a second skin. He saw Blaine looking at him and flashed a sultry do-me smile.

"Hi there. Name's Jeremiah."

Blaine looked at him. Up close he could smell the tang of sweat and cheap cologne mixed with rum and see the pain in his green eyes. _Join the club, babe._"You got an itch, Jeremiah?"

Jeremiah moved closer, settling so that he straddled Blaine's thigh and Blaine could feel his hardness pressed against him. "Got a place we can go?"

Blaine nodded once. "Yeah, upstairs."

Jeremiah nodded in return and Blaine saw a second of hesitation. He knew what Jeremiah was thinking. There were rumors about the men in the club. They were big men in more ways than one and could hurt a sexual partner if they weren't careful. But Blaine was always careful. He slid his hands to Jeremiah's hips and pulled him harder against his thigh before twisting and grinding lightly against him. "I won't hurt you. I just need you."

Jeremiah visibly swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing with the movement. "Same for me," he said as he ran his fingers lightly up Blaine's arm.

The women and men that came to the club knew they were dealing with dangerous men. Some were turned on by the danger, others had their own demons to fight. Blaine stood up. He didn't care why Jeremiah was there, none of it mattered. What did matter was that he could give him what he needed. Relief from the craving.

Blaine took Jeremiah's hand and realized that he wasn't a very big guy. He'd been staring at Jeremiah's crotch and the noticeable bulge there and hadn't thought about his overall size or how much of himself he'd be able to take. How much control it would take on Blaine's part. He briefly wondered if it was worth it. If he let go and let his animal side take control, he could bury himself hard and deep in a man, completely and balls deep, with absolutely no thought for his partner's comfort. Lust flamed white hot through his gut and his groin at the thought of being able to give a man everything he had.

Someone jostled him in passing and Blaine snapped out of his fantasy. Control. It was what separated the man from the animal, the witch hunter from the rogue. He let go of Jeremiah's hand and moved behind him so that they could make their way through the crowd. Blaine focused on his sexy ass. Jeremiah would bring him some degree of relief from the cravings and Blaine would make damn sure he enjoyed himself. He put a hand in the small of Jeremiah's back and guided him towards the stairs but stopped when he saw the man standing at the foot of them.

Before Blaine could fully react, Mike moved in behind him. He didn't have to look to know that Wes, Puck and Sam were on alert and ready for trouble.

Blaine knew he had to get Jeremiah out of the way. He had taken another step before realizing Blaine no longer had his hand on his back and turned to look at him. Blaine gently took his arm and pulled him towards him before passing him to Mike. "Take Jeremiah up to my condo the back way. Get him whatever he wants." He looked at Jeremiah. "I need to take care of something, but I'll be up as soon as I can."

Jeremiah looked confused, but nodded and followed Mike.

Blaine turned back to the man. He knew that the four rogues he had seen by the fire pit earlier had closed in, but his focus remained in front of him. "What the hell are you doing here?"

The man held out a piece of paper towards Blaine, his smooth palm revealed with the movement. "This is your last chance. Prove your loyalty. Take care of this witch, or die yourself instead."

Blaine gave a huff of mirthless laughter. "Hell, Dad, that sounds like a bad line from a movie." In his early fifties, Damian Anderson looked no older than thirty. The blood of murdered witches kept him looking young. His golden green eyes were the same color as Blaine's, but Damian's were flat, lifeless, and held no mercy.

"You fucking idiot coward. The Slayer is dead, killed by the witches and their curse. You hide behind a dead and useless god because you are too much of a coward to man up and kill the bitches that cursed us," Damian sneered.

Blaine could smell the scent of copper coming off his dad, the result of absorbing witch blood. A mortal would never smell it, but a witch or witch hunter definitely would. "Man up? Killing earth witches who can't defend themselves is being a man?" The thought made him sick, but what really churned his guts was knowing the dark desire coursed through his veins. The craving to sink his knife in a witch and feel the high of the powerful blood covering his skin.

Damian chuckled darkly. "Maybe you are too much a bitch yourself." His meaning was obvious and Blaine's body tightened in fury.

"Get the fuck out of my club."

The two rogue hunters behind his dad pulled out their knives. Blaine reacted swiftly, reaching back to the holster at the small of his back and pulling out his own knife with lightening speed. He glared at the rogues in challenge. He wanted the fight.

To his disappointment, they sheathed their blades. Blaine struggled to get himself under control. Rogues preferred to fight dirty and never liked a fair fight where they might run the risk of being killed and spending eternity in agony as a shade. He knew that Puck, Sam and Wes were watching and would protect everyone in the club with him. They would never start a fight but they damn sure would finish it. Blaine was pissed. All he wanted to do was sink himself into the body of a willing man and pleasure them both, and instead here he was having to deal with his asshole dad and some of his flunkies.

The tension in the air was palpable and a restless murmur ran through the crowd. Damian looked at the silver hilt of the knife in Blaine's hand. "There aren't any wings magically engraved there, are there. The Slayer can't give you back your immortality if he's dead. Stop being such a pathetic coward and kill the witches."

Blaine grinned coldly. "I like my lifeline, thanks."

Damian flinched before his face hardened once more. "Once we kill all the witches and break the curse, we'll all have the immortal lifeline."

Blaine tilted his head to the side as if pondering. "Interesting logic. You can try to justify your actions all you want. It was demon witches that did the curse, not earth witches. They had nothing to do with it."

"They were there! They did nothing! Nothing to stop the curse! You are out of excuses and out of time. You have twenty four hours to do your duty and kill this witch. If you don't, you're dead," Damian snarled. He dropped the sheet of paper he held. It was still fluttering to the floor when the door slammed behind the hunters.

Blaine snatched the paper out of the air before it touched the ground and looked at it. His eyebrows shot up in shock when he realized that the witch he was looking at in this picture was, in fact, a very rare male witch. Although typically female, throughout history the witch bloodlines had produced a few males along the way. They were usually unlike human men, being more fair and slender. And they were usually incredibly powerful. Blaine studied the witch's picture for a long moment. His eyes were multicolored with blues, greens and browns swirling in them, and like most witch eyes, they tilted ever so slightly. While a hunter might not be able to recognize a witch by their appearance, they would always be able to tell by the scent of power in their blood. This witch was extremely attractive. Even in a photograph, he looked vibrant and alive. At the bottom of the sheet was the information Blaine would need to hunt down and kill him. He looked for a name and found it.

_Kurt Hummel_

Blaine shook his head. It wasn't his fight. All he wanted was to keep his soul. He had vowed to never give into the curse and kill an earth witch. He would not kill this Kurt Hummel.

He folded the paper and stuck it in his pocket.


	2. Revelations

**Title:** Hot Under My Skin

**Author:** Ittlebitz

**Pairing:** Klaine

**Rating:** NC-17 over all, PG this chapter

**Warnings for this chapter: **Reference to character death (non Klaine), language, violence, blink and you miss it mention of past Seblaine

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. I don't own Glee or any of it's characters. I own a copy of the book Blood Magic, a vivid imagination, and a filthy mind...

* * *

**Death Mark Day 2**

Kurt was still sleeping when his cell phone rang the next morning. Fumbling around, he finally located it on the nightstand and managed to answer it before it went to voicemail.

"Hello?" he said, voice raspy with sleep.

"Oh, Kurt, I'm sorry, did I wake you?" Tina's apologetic voice came over on the other end.

"It's okay," Kurt said, managing to fight off a yawn. He let out a low groan as he stretched under the covers. "I was having a dream about my hawk. That hasn't happened in a long time."

"Oh? Your safety hawk?" Tina questioned gently.

Kurt laughed. "Don't try to analyze me, Dr. Cohen-Chang, you're off the clock." Tina always referred to the hawk of Kurt's childhood dreams as his safety hawk. Back then the hawk always appeared to comfort him when he was alone and frightened. Last night he had come to Kurt to comfort him in his grief.

"Of course you would dream of something comforting during a time like this, Kurt. This is a difficult time for you. And I am world's worst friend, because I have to cancel our plans for today. An emergency has come up," Tina said.

They had planned to meet at The Lima Bean coffeehouse for coffee before going to Burt's house and starting the process of going through his things. Kurt sat up in his bed, propping up with his pillows. "Something come up with one of your clients?"

"Not exactly," Tina hedged.

Kurt left it alone. Tina's hypnosis clients had a range of troubles, but there were times that she worked with those who had been brainwashed by cults or similar situations. There were times that it was sometimes dangerous, and Tina took extra precautions to protect the safety and privacy of herself and her patients.

"I promise I'll make it up to you. We'll order a pizza with extra meat and cheese on it and drink an entire bottle of wine and not worry about the consequences, okay? I have to fly out for a consult in a few days, but we'll definitely get together before then," Tina promised.

Kurt clucked his tongue in soft disapproval. "You're working too hard, Tina. You're a doctor, you of all people should know better."

"Your dad always said the same thing," Tina said, fondness mixing with sadness in her voice. She had often gone to visit Burt when Kurt was tied up at the shop, spending time with him just chatting amiably and drinking the herbal teas she made for them both.

Kurt's little huff of laughter held the echo of tears. "He loved you, you know."

"I know. I loved him, too. Besides," Tina said, mischief creeping into her voice, "he was always trying to get all your secrets about your love life out of me."

Kurt laughed. "I don't doubt it for a minute." He checked the time. "You'd better let me go and get going yourself. We'll talk tomorrow, okay? I have to tell you about how I freaked out on one of the mourners."

"When did this happen? I didn't see anything," Tina asked him, her voice sharpening with concern.

"I was still outside by myself at the gravesite," Kurt said sheepishly, feeling foolish all over again just thinking about it. "You and Quinn were inside setting up for the reception."

"What was it that freaked you out?" Tina questioned, still concerned.

Kurt sighed. "That's just it. I don't know, exactly. I'm sure it was just all the stress. It just seemed this guy appeared out of nowhere. And he was just...weird. But we'll talk about my episode of crazy tomorrow. You need to go," he laughed.

But Tina didn't laugh with him. "Kurt, be careful. If this guy made you uneasy, trust your gut instinct. Let's meet at my place tomorrow, okay? I have something important to talk to you about. We can work on your dad's house later on."

Kurt raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Okay. Is there something wrong, Tina?"

"No, nothing's wrong, but I want to talk to you. I really do have to go, but please, Kurt. Promise me you'll be careful," Tina said.

"Wow, the suspense may be too much!" Kurt teased her. "But I will be. I'll talk to you tomorrow."

* * *

Blaine surveyed the balls on the pool table and lined up his shot, leaning down and taking aim. A loud _CRACK_ sunk the eight ball in the corner pocket. "Psychosocial" by Slipknot growled from the speakers while the hum of a tattoo needle whirred in the background.

"I can't work with Puck chomping like a cow," Wes snarled, banging his needle down on the shelf. He had been working on the colorful dragon on his chest for months. He sat at a station that had been specifically set up for him and his tattoo equipment. His feet and chest were bare, his muscular legs clad in black denim. His black hair was spiked and the tips were dyed a fiery red.

"Jesus Christ, I'm not!" Puck protested as he dipped another tortilla chip in salsa and popped it in his mouth, making sure this time to chew as loudly and obnoxiously as possible. "You're just looking for a reason to bust my balls." Puck had his dark hair shaved into a mohawk and had the wing of a phoenix tattooed on each bicep, his black t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off showing them plainly. His stretched out legs were clad in faded ripped jeans, and his feet, on which he wore black leather biker boots with chains and a skull insignia on them, were propped up on a chair. "How can you stand jabbing yourself with that damn needle? It's not enough to do it to us? How big is that thing gonna be, anyway?"

Wes and Puck had been bickering for the better part of an hour, like they always did. One might never realize that they were close friends who would do anything for each other. Noah Puckerman was a bounty hunter with a mean streak that enjoyed bringing back his quarry alive, although maybe just barely. Wes Montgomery was a skilled artist whose drawings almost looked alive and practically oozed evil. He snorted at Puck's comment.

"Whatever, dude. Chicks dig my tat. Both of them did last night," he said, his voice cocky as he worked more color into the section he was working on.

Puck's booted feet hit the floor. "Fuck me, you had two chicks? Like, at the same time?"

Wes snickered. "_Fuck me._ That's exactly what they were saying last night. It's like you were there. Were you prowling around or something, Puckerman? Hoping I'd give you my sloppy seconds?"

Blaine rolled his eyes before sharing an amused glance with Sam.

Puck reached into his boot and drew out a thin knife, its blade lethally sharp. He casually cleaned under his thumbnail with it. "Wonder how many chicks you'll get without a tongue? Can't chat 'em up or go down on 'em without it."

Wes held up the vibrating tattoo needle. "Probably more than you could get to help you remove this once I shove it up your ass sideways."

"Ouch," muttered Sam. "Why don't you two just get married already? Or at least have hate sex and be done with it." Two glaring sets of eyes turned on him and he held up his hands in mock surrender.

Blaine racked the balls again for a new game and grabbed the stick he used for breaking. "I'll put my money on the needle," he said as he made the break and sent pool balls scattering across the table, grunting in satisfaction when he sunk one. They had all gone under Wes' needle before, and if given the choice between fighting a couple of armed rogue hunters or the needle, Blaine thought he might be inclined to take his chances on the rogues. "And I'm pretty sure they don't swing that way, Sam."

Sam Evans studied the balls on the table and tossed his blond hair out of his eyes before making his shot with precise accuracy. "Dude, that's a pretty damn spooky dragon," he said, changing the subject. He had chosen a mythical thunderbird as his tattoo. It spanned his shoulders under his tight Star Wars t-shirt.

Blaine studied Wes for a moment. Although he was the smallest of them, Wes had the largest tattoo. It had started out as dragon wings, but Wes had been adding to it until now the entire form of a dragon covered his chest. A small yellow canary was tattooed on his ankle, a tribal encircled one bicep, and there were other tattoos covering him as well. Wes might be smaller, but he was incredibly talented and incredibly lethal.

Puck had lost interest in verbally sparring with Wes. He slid his knife back into its place and meandered over to where Mike sat looking at the multiple monitors of the security system Blaine had in place. Mike usually kept a close eye on the various camera angles that showed the club as well as the grounds surrounding Blaine's private dwelling next door. Since it was mid afternoon and the club wasn't open yet, it was unusual to see anything on the monitors. Blaine stood up straight and laid his pool stick aside.

"What is it?" he asked Mike.

Mike looked over at Blaine. "Your mom and sister are here."

"By themselves?" Blaine asked. He walked over to the monitor to see for himself. Sure enough, his mother was headed for the back door with his sister held in her arms. That was unusual. "Let them in."

"Already did," Mike said, having hit the button that would allow them entrance. Sam went to the stereo and turned the music off. Blaine crossed the room to the door to open it for his mom and sister.

Deirdre Anderson was by all accounts a beautiful woman. She was petite with dark brown eyes and sleek blonde hair. But today, she was pale and lines of strain were visible around her eyes and mouth.

Blaine's sister Samantha, fondly known as Sammy, held out her arms when she saw him.

Blaine grinned and took her from his mom. She wrapped her little arms around him and squeezed tightly. "Hi, Blaine! Mommy said I could come and color with Wes. Can I? Pretty please?" Her brown eyes sparkled with excitement. She had no idea what he and the other men were. She loved them all, completely and unconditionally. And to a man, each of them a witch hunter with a dark killer instinct they barely controlled, the Warblers were putty in her tiny hands.

Blaine looked at his mother. When she nodded Blaine set Sammy down. "Go ask Wes if he wants to color," he instructed her gently. Anyone else who knew Wes might have laughed at the idea of the tough hunter coloring with a little girl. Wes had been orphaned at an early age. He had grown up on the mean streets and had killed before to stay alive. He was a skilled artist who was wealthy now, courtesy of his tattoo parlor and the hugely successful comic series he drew. But he and Sammy would spend hours coloring together. Wes was gentle with Sammy and always had time for her. And of all the Warblers, he was her favorite. He would color My Little Pony with the same patience and skill that he used to create his livelihood.

Blaine watched Sammy as she skipped away to find Wes, her long dark curls swinging in their pigtails, then turned to Deirdre. "Mom? What's wrong?"

Deirdre still stood in the same place she had been in when Blaine took Sammy from her. She was one of the toughest, smartest women Blaine knew, but at that moment she looked tense and anxious. Vulnerable somehow.

Sam, Puck and Mike came to stand behind Blaine. There was a tension in the air that was palpable. Deirdre looked at them, men she loved and had watched grow from boyhood, then turned to look at her son. She swallowed, then took a shaky breath. "She has the mark, Blaine. Sammy has the death mark."

Blaine jerked as if she had struck him. Her words echoed on repeat in his brain, his blood surging to a boiling rage. _No_. Not his sweet little sister. "You're sure?" he heard his own voice ask, sounding a million miles away.

Deirdre nodded jerkily. "I'm positive. It's the death mark." A tremor shook her and Sam quickly led her to a chair to sit down while Mike grabbed a bottle of water from the refrigerator.

Blaine wanted to tell his mother she had to be mistaken. But even though Deirdre was a mortal, she was fully aware of the immortal world that coexisted with her own. She had been a successful travel agent when she was younger and had traveled extensively all over the world as part of her job. During one of those trips, she met and fell in love with Damian, and had accepted that he was an immortal witch hunter. She knew that meant that she would age and one day die while Damian continued to live. But she didn't let that trouble her. She and Damian married and had been overjoyed when she got pregnant with Blaine. Then the curse happened, and Deirdre had believed that her love would be strong enough to keep her husband from going rogue, and that since Damian was no longer immortal, they would grow old together.

She had been wrong. And she had fought for years to keep her son from the same fate as his father. Now she looked at Blaine with tears forming in her eyes. "It's on her forehead, Blaine. She woke up with it this morning. Just a small pink spot. I thought it was probably a bug bite, but then this afternoon it was bigger and had become perfectly round. And I don't know what to do!"

Blaine felt his mother's pain adding to the compulsion running through his veins. He knew what he had to do. No matter how much he wanted to hold on to his soul, he would hunt down the demon witch responsible and kill her. It would save Sammy, but it would destroy him at the same time. But he couldn't let his sister die. He had only a short time. The victim of a death curse would sicken and die at the full moon, which gave him about fourteen days.

"I'll take care of it. I won't let anything happen to Sammy. I'll hunt down the witch who did this and kill her," Blaine said, looking into his mother's eyes.

Deirdre trembled again. "_Blaine_," she cried, her voice cracking on a sob.

Blaine understood. He knew she loved him. She loved him so much that she had stayed with his dad even once he went rogue. She knew Damian would kill her before he would let her take Blaine from him. And she had stayed until things got too dangerous for Blaine, the two of them going into hiding and on the run until Blaine was old enough to handle his dad. They had always been there for each other, especially after Damian found Dierdre that one time and used his powers to seduce her, getting her pregnant with Sammy. And now she was faced with having to sacrifice one child to save the other. She shook her head vehemently.

"No, Blaine. It only takes killing one witch to change you, demon or not. I won't let you. _I'll_ kill her. You hunt her down, and I'll kill her myself," she said fiercely.

Puck growled low in his throat and Sam stiffened. "_Deirdre_," Mike said, the warning in his voice clear. Just the idea of his mother facing down a demon witch made Blaine's rage burn hotter. A hunter was born to protect and to kill. Both instincts ran deep. He put his arms around her. "Mom, only a witch who has given up her soul in exchange for demon powers can cast a death curse. Killing you would be as easy as swatting a fly. You have to take care of Sammy. I'll find the witch who did this."

He let go of her and walked into the next room. Childish giggles and a low male voice could be heard, and he found Wes and Sammy sprawled on the floor. They had a giant Disney Princess coloring book open in front of them with a large box of crayons between them. Sammy lay on her stomach as she colored. She had taken off her shoes and her rainbow striped sock feet were kicking in the air.

Blaine kneeled down next to her. "Whatcha coloring?"

She grinned up at him. "Ariel. She's the Little Mermaid. Wanna help?" She held out a red crayon towards him.

He reached out and casually brushed her bangs off her forehead. There in the center of her forehead was the dime sized pink mark. His head pounded with the compulsion to find the witch that did this and spill her blood, make her pay. Carefully, he pulled his hand away.

Wes' eyes hardened, narrowing as he saw the mark. Hatred flared hot in their brown depths. But when he spoke to Sammy, his voice was gentle as always. "You're stuck with me, peanut." She giggled at the silly nickname. "Your brother has some business he has to take care of." Wes looked at Blaine directly. "Go take care of it."

Jaw tight, Blaine nodded. He knew exactly what had happened. His dad had pissed off a demon witch and she'd cast a death curse on him. But witch hunters were immune to death curses, so the curse had passed down the line, bypassing Blaine and settling on Sammy.

A short time later, Blaine pulled up to the compound where his father lived. The compound had once been a veterinarian's house, complete with an office and a kennel behind it. The house had been renovated and Blaine didn't want to know what use the office and kennel were now serving. The place was owned by the Rogue Junto, but Damian was a loyal witch killer and they gave him what he wanted in return. Blaine couldn't imagine living in that type of servitude to anyone. He wasn't a rogue and on his orders, the Warblers would kill him if that day ever came. It was looking more like a certainty with a death curse on Sammy.

Blaine jumped the fence and strode up the driveway. He knew there were cameras on him and that suited him just fine. He wanted Damian to know he was there. When he got to the door, he pounded on it. "Open up, Dad! We need to talk right now!"

The door opened and Blaine nearly let his jaw drop in surprise when he recognized the man in the doorway.

"Sebastian? Is that you?"

It was Sebastian Smythe. They had played together as kids growing up. Sebastian had been the first guy he'd ever kissed. They had lost contact when Blaine had gone on the run with his mother. Blaine caught his breath as the scent of copper hit him. _Rogue_. That realization was like a kick to his gut. His childhood buddy and young teenage crush had become one of _them_.

"Hello, Blaine. You're looking super hot today. Damian never said you'd grown up so fine. I always knew you'd be a looker, but damn, you're practically sex on a stick!" Sebastian leered at him, licking his lips lasciviously.

Blaine blinked at him, in a state of stunned disbelief that was quickly becoming outrage. "What the fuck, Sebastian? You're one of them!"

The leer fell off Sebastian's face and his gaze hardened. "Cut the dramatic bullshit, Blaine. We aren't kids anymore and this isn't a game. The witches destroyed us and took our heritage. It's time we fought back and reclaimed what's rightfully ours."

Blaine thought of the rogues he had killed over the years. He never sought them out, but if they caused trouble of the deadly kind, he would end it. And he always felt a tug of pity and remorse for the hunter who had lost the battle with the curse. But seeing the man he had known as a boy, the boy with whom he had played games where they pretended to hunt down demon witches together, the boy whose lips he had tentatively pressed his own against one night a lifetime ago, made him furious. "You're fucking stupid if you believe that. You sold out our heritage, and every drop of witch blood you've shed has sealed your doom."

Sebastian's jaw tightened as rage flared in his eyes. "Damian's upstairs." He didn't move from where he was and Blaine hit him with his shoulder as he passed.

There was another rogue at the foot of the stairs in the entryway. This one had a gun. So, Damian had guards now. What was he doing that required guards? Blaine shook his head. It wasn't his problem. What was his problem was Sammy. The rogue guard let him pass with a suspicious glare that Blaine returned before heading up the stairs. He found his dad in the master bedroom laying on silk sheets and drinking Hennessy. A porno was playing on the television screen.

Damian took a sip of his drink, savoring it in his mouth while he looked at him. Finally, he swallowed. "Is the witch dead?"

Blaine knew Damian wasn't talking about the witch that had cursed Sammy, but the one he had ordered him to kill. "Beats the hell out of me." He noticed the angry looking burn along Damian's torso. That kind could only have come from a fire spell. Hunters healed extremely fast, but a burn like that would take several days to heal. His dad had definitely tangled with the wrong witch last night.

"Do you want to die? Alistair Young knows you've killed rogue hunters and that you marked yourself to show allegiance to a dead god. You are as good as dead if you don't join us," Damian snarled.

Blaine pulled out his gun and aimed it at Damian's heart. "I don't care about your threats or Young's delusions. Did the witch that did that to you survive?"

Damian took another sip of his cognac. "What the fuck do you care?"

"Samantha's been death cursed," Blaine growled.

Damian gave an unconcerned shrug then winced in pain. "So?"

Hatred flared up in Blaine's gut and roiled through him. It took all his control not to pull the trigger and just kill his father right then and there. The only thing keeping him from doing it was that he needed to know who the witch was. And besides, killing Damian at that moment would bring the wrath of the Junto on him, and he didn't need that additional headache while he hunted down the witch that cursed Sammy. "Who is she? And what did you do to piss her off?"

Damian glared at Blaine. "I did my duty. Only by ridding the world of witches will we ever end this curse and regain our souls. How was I to know her mother would show up?"

Blaine stared at his father in disbelief. "Christ, dad, you killed a kid?"

"She wasn't a kid. Probably around your age. She fought like a hellcat until I cut her enough," Damian said, closing his eyes and shuddering in pleasure just remembering.

Blaine's gut twisted as he looked at his dad. This was his future. Just killing the witch that did the curse...but Sammy. Damian might not care that his daughter would die from the life sucking curse, but Blaine did. "Who is she? Who's the witch that cursed Sammy?"

Damian laughed, then grunted in pain. "Don't know, don't care."

"Damn it, Dad, I'm not going to let Sammy die," Blaine swore in frustration and rage.

"Do you think I give a flying fuck about that girl? You want the curse lifted? Go find a witch and force her to undo the curse." Damian drained his drink.

Blaine's trigger finger positively ached with the need to pull and end the bastard right there. He would watch his father die with absolute pleasure. But he couldn't do it. Not yet. He had to save Sammy, and he didn't need the Rogue Junto getting in his way or going after his mom in retaliation. "One day I'm going to kill you," he said in a dark, low voice before turning on his heel and stalking out of the room.

At least he wasn't leaving empty handed. Damian had given Blaine a possible solution without even meaning to, one that might let him save Sammy and keep his soul at the same time. He would find an earth witch and force them to undo the curse. Earth witches were in hiding from rogues. And even though he wasn't rogue they might refuse to help him, not only because of the threat of him snapping and killing them, but that they themselves had no protection from demon witches. Casting a spell to undo a demon witch's curse was a sure way to anger her. But he would force the witch to help him. All he needed was a witch-and his dad had already given him all the information he needed to find one.

Kurt Hummel.

* * *

"We'll take a look. Based on what you're telling me, if my hunch is correct we should have the car ready by tomorrow," Kurt said to the petite redhead standing at the counter. "I'll call you if anything changes. And call me if you need anything."

"Thanks, Kurt," she smiled as she handed over the keys before taking her husband's hand.

Kurt steeled himself before turning to Jesse St. James. He held out his hand and said, "Does that work, Jesse? Do you need me to arrange for a rental or anything?"

Jesse hesitated a moment before taking Kurt's hand and giving it a brief shake, not meeting his eyes. "We've got it, thanks." He dropped Kurt's hand as though it burned him and quickly turned to leave with his wife.

"What the hell was that?" Finn asked, coming from the shop and wiping his dirty hands on a grease rag.

Kurt fought back the flow of memories. "We dated," he said shortly as he put a tag on the keys he's just been given and marking them St. James.

"You? Dated..._really_?" Finn blinked a couple of times in surprise. "Huh." He let out a honk of surprised laughter. "You dated Jesse St. Sucks." He saw Kurt's downcast eyes and frowned. "Did he do something to you to hurt you?"

"No. Not what you're thinking," Kurt sighed.

Finn's eyebrows met in a frown. "Okay. Explain."

"No." Kurt wasn't going to get into his sex life, or lack thereof, as the case may be, with Finn.

Finn crossed his arms, still frowning. "Kurt, either you tell me or I'll make Jesse tell me."

Kurt knew Finn was concerned but wished he would just let it drop. "We weren't sexually compatible, among other things." When they had had sex, he'd been able to feel the uneasy thoughts Jesse had washing over him.

Then Jesse had dumped him via text message.

Jesse hadn't been the only one, but he had been the last. Kurt had decided then that he was done with dating. The pain and rejection hurt too much.

"...didn't know he swung both ways," Finn was saying when Kurt came back to the present moment. Finn looked at Kurt and reached out to squeeze his coverall clad shoulder. "He wasn't good enough for you anyway."

"I know. He found someone right for him. Megan's lovely and seems very nice," Kurt said distractedly. So many people were getting married or finding life partners. More than ever, he felt lonely, frustrated and out of place. But as much as he wanted to find someone who would love him for _him_, he didn't want to open himself to being rejected yet again.

Finn shook his head. "Dude, you shouldn't even be working right now. You just lost your dad and you look beat. Are you sleeping the full night, even?" he asked, noticing the dark circles under Kurt's eyes, something that was far from common.

"I'm much better off being here working," Kurt said firmly. What would he do staying home? Organize his sock drawer? Rearrange his spice cabinet? Have a pity party? He needed the distraction work offered. His dad was at peace and he would want Kurt to continue to live his life. "I'm going over to Tina's tonight. That should be fun."

"Good. Are you going out? Find yourselves a couple of nice guys maybe?" Finn nudged Kurt's shoulder playfully.

"Nah. Staying in." Kurt wondered what it was Tina wanted to talk to him about.

Finn narrowed his eyes at him. "All the time I've been back, I haven't seen you go on a date once. You're always with Tina. Did you switch sides while I was gone? Do you and Tina have something you need to tell me?"

"Something to tell-oh, my God, Finn!" Kurt burst out laughing. The idea caused him to laugh so hard he had to sit. Finally able to stop enough to catch his breath and wipe his eyes, he looked at Finn fondly. "I really missed you while you were gone."

Finn put his arm around Kurt's shoulder. "You had to do this by yourself for far too long. Now you have me here to boss around."

"Boss around? No, Finn. This place is yours, too. Dad wanted it that way and so do I," Kurt stated firmly. In his will, Burt had left the shop to both Kurt and Finn. Finn had protested, saying that it was Kurt who had kept the business going during Burt's illness and while he himself was out of the country. But Kurt had quickly assured him that he and his dad had discussed it in detail before Burt had passed and not only was he aware of the plan, he supported it.

"Okay, fine. We're partners. We own the place equally, and right now you've earned the right to be the boss," Finn retorted. His gaze was suddenly arrested by something and Kurt turned around and followed his gaze to see Quinn coming towards them. She wore black slacks with a silvery gray sweater and her look was contemplative and introspective, with none of the cheerleader bounce that had been a part of her in high school. Quinn had been confident, always knowing exactly what she wanted and where she belonged. It didn't surprise anyone when she went to Yale to study law. She had her course and purpose in life mapped out, it seemed.

"It's closing time and I'm finished for the day," Quinn said to Kurt, "but I wondered if I could talk to you."

Kurt raised his eyebrows slightly. "Sure," he said, motioning her into the office that had been his dad's. He sat down behind the desk and gestured to one of the chairs. "Sit. Make yourself comfortable."

Quinn settled into the chair and Kurt noticed Finn hovering in the doorway. When it came to Quinn, Finn always kept close. They had flirted a lot in high school but had never dated. Since Finn was part owner, Kurt decided he had the right to hear what Quinn had to say as well. He watched Quinn running her hands nervously up and down her thighs. "Is there something wrong, Quinn? Are you okay?"

Quinn licked her lips nervously. "No. Yes." She sighed, sounding anxious. "It's really complicated."

Kurt waited for her to continue. After a moment when she didn't say anything, he gently asked, "Is there a problem? You've been an asset here at the shop, Quinn. If something's wrong, I promise you Finn and I will have your back." He meant that. Even though she and Finn had been a part of the cool cheerleader/jock crowd in school, she had often stood up for him against others when they had bothered him. And the one time he had been in real trouble, it had been Quinn that lead Finn to him. Kurt knew Finn was listening intently to hear what she had to say.

Quinn absently brushed her blonde hair back and massaged one temple. "I need to tell you something. Something about my husband."

Kurt waited a moment before prompting her. "Your husband?" He had heard that she had gotten married but nothing about her husband or why he hadn't come with her back to Lima. "Did you get divorced?"

Quinn winced and raised both hands to her temples, closing her eyes. "No, I..." her voice trailed off and she winced again as though in pain.

Kurt was concerned. "Are you sick?"

"A headache," Quinn said in a voice barely above a whisper, eyes still closed.

"Why don't you go home and get some rest? We can talk about this tomorrow when you feel better," Kurt said. "Do you want me to drive you home?" he asked as she stood up.

Finn stepped into the office. "I'll take her home."

Quinn jumped as though she had forgotten Finn was there and wasn't expecting him. "Finn."

"I'll take you home," Finn repeated, staring at her. "We can stop on the way and grab a bite to eat."

Quinn shook her head. "N-no, I'll be fine. It's only a headache, I can drive myself." She hurried out of the office, stopping momentarily to grab her purse before walking quickly to her car.

Finn made a motion to follow her but was stopped by Kurt. "Finn. Don't," he said sharply.

Finn spun back to look at Kurt, his eyes worried and almost pleading. "She's sick, Kurt."

Kurt watched Quinn leave. "She's scared. If you push her or crowd her, she'll be even more afraid."

Finn's shoulders slumped. "What has she told you?"

Kurt shook his head. "Nothing. But when she brushes against me I can, you know, _feel_ it. It's all jumbled and confusing, but there's something she's afraid of."

"Or someone," Finn muttered darkly.

"Finn, don't mistake the memory of a high school crush for something real. She's not the same person. Neither of you are," Kurt said quietly. He didn't want either of them hurt, and he didn't want Finn drug into a situation with Quinn where either of them might be in danger.

Finn stared at Kurt. "Wow, Kurt. This is the kind of shit that freaks out the guys you go out with. You see and know too much sometimes. Or feel it or whatever."

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Thank you, Dr. Freud. Now get going. I have some invoices and things I need to reconcile before I head home. You go figure out your Quinn crush. You don't need me for that."

Finn shot him the easy going grin that had been his trademark in high school. "Whatever. I'm out. I'll catch you in the morning. Be careful when you leave. I'm gonna lock you in, okay?"

Kurt waved as he turned his attention to the papers in front of him. When he heard the lock turn behind Finn, he sighed and stripped off his coveralls to the jeans and t-shirt he had on underneath. The silence brought on the murmuring voices in his head, and he grabbed his iPod to drown them out. While Adam Lambert sang, Kurt worked on the invoices, entering everything into the computer and getting the hard copies ready for filing.

After a short time, the knife scar on his neck got his attention. It burned or itched on occasion, and he realized he had been scratching it while he worked. He pulled a small mirror out of his desk to look at it. It looked red from his scratching at it, so he grabbed a bottle of lotion to put some on. He rubbed a tiny amount onto the scar and noticed that he had a new email. He clicked the icon to check it, and his heartbeat stuttered before pounding hard in his chest. It was another email from himself, just like the night of his dad's funeral. The subject line read _WARNING_, and the message read _They've found you! Get out! Run! _

Kurt felt a shiver run down his spine. This was creepy as hell. Feeling like there was someone behind him, he yanked the earbuds out of his ears and whirled around. But there wasn't anyone there.

Kurt let out a disbelieving laugh. He was the only one here, just him and the cars in the garage. He ran a shaky hand over his face. Someone was trying to mess with him. But who? And why? He'd been the victim of a lot of pranks growing up, but not in the last few years.

He jumped when the phone on the desk rang. He grabbed it, trying to force his wildly beating heart back to normal. "Hummel Tire and Lube," he said, wincing at how high pitched and breathless his voice sounded.

_"Run!"_

The hairs on Kurt's arms stood up in goosebumps. The voice sounded flat and computer generated. "I beg your pardon? Who is this?" He took a tentative step towards the office doorway. There didn't appear to be anything threatening in the lobby.

_"Run!"_ the voice repeated. _"You have to get out of there!"_

Kurt slammed the phone down. He didn't know what the hell was going on, but he sure as fuck wasn't staying there alone any longer. He grabbed up his iPod, wallet and keys, tossed his jacket over one arm, and headed for the door. His body was tight with tension as he stepped into the lobby. His eyes darted back and forth, looking for anything unusual but finding nothing. He unlocked the deadbolt on the door and opened it, stepping quickly outside. He shut the door behind him and quickly put his key in to lock it.

The night air had a coppery odor that made him want to gag. He covered his nose and breathed through his mouth to try to lessen it. He had never liked copper. Even as a child he had avoided pennies. Right now he felt like his mouth was full of pennies, the taste and scent metallic and thick.

Like the man at his dad's funeral.

Kurt's head swam and he struggled to get the sudden fear enveloping him under control. Everything seemed normal. He took a deep breath to pull himself together and nearly gagged again.

Copper. Why did he smell copper? Unease was giving way to panic. He believed danger was near but had no idea why. He pulled his key loose and turned to hurry to his Navigator, but stopped dead in his tracks.

Two large men, both holding large knives, were blocking the walkway to the parking lot.

Kurt stood frozen, muscles tight with fear. His heart pounded in his throat. They hadn't been there a moment ago when he walked out. "What...can I, um, can I help you?" he asked them, fumbling with his cell phone to dial 911.

The guy on the right lunged at him, catching him by the throat and slamming him back into the wall. His phone, wallet and iPod hit the ground at his feet along with his jacket. His head spun and the heavy taste of copper filled his mouth. He felt a fear so deep the scar on his neck throbbed as though it were on fire.

_Fight!_ his mind screamed at him.

The second guy moved in closer. The blades of their knives flashed in the moonlight. "Grab his keys. We'll take him inside."

Kurt clutched his keys tighter and wedged his fist behind his back between him and the wall. But the first guy grabbed his arm by the wrist and squeezed. Kurt gasped as his hand went numb and his keys fell from his unfeeling fingers. The guy grabbed the keys and hurried to the door.

Terror flooded Kurt's bloodstream. The voices inside his head screamed, suddenly becoming very clear. _Fight back!_ Kurt brought his hands together and thrust them up between the arms of the asshole holding his throat. His hold was broken and Kurt tried to run. Snarling, the guy caught his wrist and yanked him back, slamming him face first into the wall. Kurt's breath left him in a whoosh and he felt his lip split as his face scraped the side of the building. He felt himself being pinned against the wall by the guy's huge body, trapping him. "Hurry up with the fucking door!" the guy yelled at his cohort.

"It won't open! He's holding it closed with witchcraft! Cut him!" the other guy screamed back.

_Witchcraft?_ Kurt's stomach roiled with fear. What the hell were they talking about? His head pounded from fear and the endless buzz of voices in his head. The man holding him pushed him harder against the wall. Kurt felt the cold, lethal edge of the knife pressing into the curve of his neck just above the shoulder. "Your powers won't save you, witch," the guy growled into his ear.

The scar on Kurt's neck burned fiery hot. Images flooded his mind, images of knives and blood. "Bastards! No! Get away from me!" he yelled as he struggled to get away. He jolted in shock, a gasp leaving him as the knife sliced a trail of fire across his skin. The man leaned forward and hissed, "You smell that, witch? Your blood is mine."

Kurt's mind swam as hot pain and terror filled him. Even the voices in his mind had fled. This was it, then. He was going to die. They were going to kill him and he didn't know why. He didn't even really know what they looked like, except they were big with mean, vacant eyes. Blood ran hot down his back and the man holding him panted in excitement. Kurt could feel his eagerness for the kill. For his blood.

"Finally," grunted the guy at the door.

Kurt heard the door open. He forced himself to think. He had to figure out a way to save himself. If he let them get him inside, they would kill him. Just as the guy holding him grabbed his wrist to drag him inside, there was a roar of an engine that broke the silence of the night. It grew closer and there was a sudden screech of tires. Kurt's face and body were still pressed into the wall and he couldn't see a thing. But he could hear a frenzy behind him, flesh slamming into flesh, grunts, a horrifying wet sound and a clatter as a knife hit the ground. Then suddenly the man who held him imprisoned against the wall was gone, yanked away.

Kurt sucked in a breath and spun around, leaning against the wall to keep him upright. In the headlights of a big truck he watched as a large silhouette stuck a knife into the chest of the guy who'd been holding him. He tossed the lifeless body over onto the body of the first guy that was laying motionless on the ground in the lights of the truck.

Kurt was frozen in horror for a split second before he realized the door to the shop stood open with his keys in it. _Get inside and lock the door!_ He lunged, trying to get to safety.

A powerful arm wrapped around his waist and lifted him right off his feet. He lost his grip on his keys, on the door and on his sanity. He flailed like a madman, struggling in the iron hold that had him captive and trying to kick the man carrying him towards the truck. He opened his mouth to scream for help, but a large hand clapped over his mouth.

"Damn it, do you _want_ to die?" the man snarled as he tossed Kurt into the passenger seat.

Kurt bounced and hit the door. His body ached all over and he struggled against a wave of dizziness. His chest heaved as he tried to get his breathing under control. The interior of the truck smelled like leather. "Who are you?" he demanded as the guy got into the truck behind him and slammed the door.

"I'm the guy who just saved your ass. More rogues will be coming. They don't leave a mess and they don't leave witches alive." He put the truck into reverse and stomped on the gas.

Kurt grabbed onto the seat to keep from flying into the windshield. As the guy shifted from reverse to drive, he saw his chance and lunged for the door handle. A brutal grip on his arm stopped him. When he looked back he gasped at cold hazel eyes and the knife in his left hand.

"Don't make me cut you. I don't want to hurt you, but I will if you fight me," he said in a frighteningly calm voice.

Kurt felt his breath hitch in his chest. "Why are you doing this?"

The man's gaze traveled to his bleeding mouth and his grip on Kurt's arm tightened. "I need a witch."

Kurt finally broke. "What are you even talking about? Why is everyone saying that? What do you mean, more rogues are coming? And why is everyone calling me a witch? Nothing makes any sense! You're going to have to go ahead and kill me now. I'm not going anywhere with you!" he shrieked.

The man's eyes flared with a heat that nearly knocked Kurt back into the seat. Yanking him forward, the man leaned in until they were close enough that Kurt could smell the scent of sandalwood mixed with sweat. "Do. You. Want. Me. To. Cut. You," the man grated out.

The back of Kurt's neck burned where the first man had cut him. The same man he'd seen this guy kill. _No!_ screamed his mind, but fear choked him and he couldn't answer.

The man nodded and let him go. "There's a first aid kit in the glove box," he said as he laid his knife on a muscular thigh and drove away from the shop.

Kurt reached for the first aid kit with trembling hands. He _had_ to figure out a way to escape.

* * *

**TBC**

**ittlebitz . tumblr . com**


	3. What Is This Feeling?

**Title:** Hot Under My Skin

**Author:** Ittlebitz

**Pairing:** Kurt/Blaine

**Rating:** NC-17 over all, R this chapter

**Warnings for this chapter: **Some description of blood and injuries, past emotional/slight physical abuse, claustrophobia, mention of non-con kiss (Karofsky), possible dub-con (not intended to be but I can see where it might be construed that way)

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. I don't own Glee or any of it's characters. I own a copy of the book Blood Magic and an iPad.

**Author's Note: **Many thanks to my bestie Sam for doing me the honor of beta reading this chapter! Loves!

* * *

Blaine drove the truck down the quiet road that led to the safe house. It was on a large private property near Westerville, deep in the woods where it wouldn't attract much attention. It was built into a large hillside so that three sides were surrounded by the hill itself while the front faced a lake. Only the Warblers knew he owned this house and property. He had long kept it stocked and furnished in preparation to hide his mother and sister if they were ever threatened. He knew full well the Rogue Junto had no compunction about using them for leverage should they decide they really wanted something of him. But he had never dreamed he would be hiding a witch, much less a witch that was on the rogues most wanted list.

Blaine parked his truck in front of the house and sucked in a deep breath. He could smell the witch's blood. Tightening his grip on the steering wheel, he fought against the burning need. The wound on the witch's neck was no longer bleeding, but the scent of fresh witch blood lingered tantalizingly, mockingly, offering cool relief and eternal damnation all at once. _Just get this over with._

A soft click alerted Blaine as the witch tried to squeeze the door handle to open it and run. Grabbing his knife, he quickly moved around the truck in time to catch the door as it swung open. He moved to block the way bodily. "Don't run from me," he gritted out. He was just barely in control of himself right now. If the witch ran, the predator side of him would surface.

A startled gasp escaped his captive, his face pale in the bit of light coming from the cab interior. "But you were...how did you...?" Fear turned his eyes nearly gray and heightened the prominence of the tilted shape of his witch's eyes. His jaw was clenched and shoulders hunched with tension.

Blaine gave him a humorless half smile. "Witch hunters are fast."

"Witch hunters?" was the wary reply.

Blaine's gaze traveled downward, stopping momentarily to watch the flex of thigh muscle under the snug blue jeans the witch was wearing. A heated flash of lust caught him by surprise. Resolutely ignoring it, he stepped back and made a motion with his hand.

"Out."

The witch, _Kurt_, slowly slid down out of the truck. He stood there uneasily, eyes darting back and forth.

Blaine bit back a hiss. The back of Kurt's gray t-shirt was tacky and rust colored with dried blood. He could see the edge of the gauze bandage he'd fashioned over the wound. Kurt had to be in incredible pain, but he hadn't breathed a word of it. Fury seared through Blaine at the memory of pulling into the tire shop and seeing two rogues on him. One of them pinning Kurt to the wall while sliding a knife across his delicate skin.

Blaine forced his mind back to the present. Kurt was there for one reason; to break the death curse on Sammy. Then he would be gone. _And when you release him, then what? He'll be dead within hours._ Blaine told himself that if Kurt cooperated, he would make sure to set him up somewhere that he'd be safe from rogues and the demon witch whose spell he would be breaking. He reached out and grabbed Kurt's arm.

Kurt sucked in a harsh breath and pulled back, trying to get away.

Blaine could smell his fear.

"I won't hurt you as long as you cooperate with me."

Despite the scent of fear lacing him, Kurt's gaze was defiant. "Like I believe you."

"Keep it up and I'll drug you," Blaine threatened. He wouldn't actually do it, but as a scare tactic it was effective.

"I'm allergic to drugs!" Kurt protested, paling even more.

Blaine gave him a cool smile. Finally, Kurt was catching on. "I know you are." Witches were highly evolved and had the ability to heal by means of their craft and earth remedies. Synthetic medications made them extremely sick.

Kurt flinched, then glared at Blaine. "You asshole."

Blaine shrugged. ''Just so we understand each other."

He grabbed Kurt's arm and guided him towards the door. The house looked unassuming from the outside, but only the top level was visible at ground level. There was a lower level completely hidden by the surrounding land. He unlocked and opened the door, then heard the infrared sensors come on. He took out his iPhone with his free hand and entered the code to have the alarm halt for ten seconds. When the faint hiss stopped, Blaine steered Kurt through the doorway. They stood in the living room and he could see Kurt looking around. There was a large plush couch with matching end and coffee tables in a deep cherry wood. A huge recliner with heat and massage function was in the corner. The stone fireplace had an enormous flat screen television hanging over it. It seemed an ordinary room. Nothing to indicate that there was another level below or that the place was wired with enough electronics to give any techie a wet dream.

"This way," Blaine said, walking down a hallway and pulling a reluctant Kurt behind him. They went into the ultra-modern kitchen, complete with stainless steel appliances and marble countertops. Blaine came to a stop when he saw Deirdre sitting at the table holding Sammy in her lap. "Is she okay?"

Deirdre looked pale. Her hair was pulled back in a loose ponytail and she wore a pair of sweatpants and an old Cincinnati Reds t-shirt. The dark circles under her eyes stood out against her pale complexion. "She has a fever," she said in a low voice that was weighted down with worry.

Sammy lifted her head from her mother's shoulder. She held her favorite stuffed Tigger. "Who's that?" she asked as she held her arms out to Blaine.

Blaine reached out and gently picked her up. He could feel the heat coming off of her as she laid her head on his shoulder. "He won't hurt you," Blaine promised as he rubbed her back gently. "You feel bad, sweet pea?"

Sammy nodded listlessly against his shoulder. "Mommy gave me medicine to make me feel better."

Blaine tried to relax. He had brought a witch with him to save them both. He turned towards Kurt and had to stop himself from flinching. Kurt looked like hell. Blaine hadn't truly realized it until just now. Kurt's pale face was covered in angry red scrapes and his lip was split and swollen. He and the shirt he wore were covered in dried blood. And there were dark purpling finger marks on his neck that stood out against his fair skin. Blaine didn't really want Sammy to see any of this, but it couldn't be helped. He would just try to get it over and done with as quickly as possible.

Sammy offered her stuffed toy to Kurt. "Would you like to hold my Tigger? He makes me feel better."

Kurt stared at the toy for a moment before shifting his gaze between Blaine and Deirdre. "I don't understand. Who are you people? What do you want? I don't want to be here."

Blaine looked meaningfully at Kurt. "Maybe she needs medicine."

Kurt narrowed his eyes and glared at him.

Blaine knew he didn't have time to regret not getting to Kurt before the two rogues had hurt him. He had to focus on the important matter at hand. "We're going to show him the mark on your forehead. He's going to help you feel better."

Sammy's lip turned down and trembled slightly. "I don't like it, Blaine. It hurts. Make it go away.

Anger sizzled through Blaine like electricity. The animal within raged just below the surface, wanting to cut and spill blood. His mother's voice brought him back, forcing back the curse. "Show him the mark, Blaine. Kurt, I know you want to leave, and I promise you can, after you help Sammy."

Sammy leaned forward towards Kurt. She pushed back her bangs and exposed her forehead.

Blaine watched as Kurt's eyes fixated on Sammy's forehead. Blood drained from Kurt's face and his eyes widened, the pupils dilating in shock. He stumbled backwards, both hands covering his mouth.

"Oh my God! This can't be happening!" he gasped as he took another step back before turning and running out of the kitchen.

* * *

Kurt knew he was going to be sick. He tore open the door, ignoring the sound of the security system. He stumbled and fell to one knee and stayed there, panting loudly, sucking in the cool night air. His stomach roiled and he had broken out in a cold sweat that stung his injuries.

But he couldn't outrun the truth. He had seen that mark once before. His mind raced back to that horrible day. He had been six years old, at his dad's shop, under the strict eye of his grandfather. He played quietly in the corner so as not to call attention to himself and no doubt get some sort of tongue lashing.

_The bell on the door indicated a customer. Little Kurt looked up from his toys and saw a sickly looking man at the counter talking to his grandfather. The man's cheeks were sunken in and his complexion was waxy under his limp brown curls._

_"Will, you look terrible. You need to be home resting. An oil change would wait 'til you felt better."_

_Kurt started to go back to his play when his eyes caught sight of the black mark on the man's forehead. His head started spinning as the voices in his head grew louder in alarm. "Oh, no! Death mark! It's the death mark! Stay away, Kurt! It's demon witch magic! Danger!"_

_"No!" Kurt had screamed, causing both men at the counter to turn to him in shock. His grandfather's shocked expression quickly turned dark with anger and embarrassment. "Kurt Hummel!" he boomed warningly in his loud voice._

_Kurt had scrambled to his feet, eyes wide and frightened. He didn't want a black mark on him! "But the death mark, Gramps! He has the death mark!"_

_His grandfather's face grew even darker and an angry flush rose up his neck until even the tips of his ears were red. The other man just stared at Kurt in awkward confusion._

_"It'll kill him! The death mark will kill him!" Kurt cried as tears streamed down his face, trying to make them understand. He yelped in pain as his grandfather surged forward and snatched him hard by the arm..._

Kurt shuddered as the vivid memory washed over him like ice water. That beautiful little girl inside was marked for death. He struggled to his feet and bent over with his hands on his knees, panting and trying to think. More than anything, he wanted to run. Get away from this place. But he couldn't leave that poor child. Something within him would not let him; the same mysterious thing about him that recognized the death mark to begin with. What _was_ he that such a thing was possible?

His mind flashed on another memory from just a few days after he had seen the man with the death mark...

_Something yanked his arm and Kurt woke up, crying out in pain and fear._

H_is grandfather drug him out of his bed and flung him into the corner. In the dim light of Kurt's nightlight and the moon streaming in his window, Kurt could see his eyes were red. His clothes were all wrinkled and his breath smelled of whiskey when he leaned forward, pointing an accusing finger._

"_I don't know how you did it, but he's dead. I'll not be in the same house as the devil's spawn!"_

_"Dad!" Burt rushed into the room and pulled his father back, shoving him away from Kurt. "What the hell is wrong with you? He's just a little boy!"_

_Kurt started to cry as the two men stood face to face, yelling at each other._

_"There's something wrong with that boy, Burt! He's a freak!"_

_"My God, do you even hear yourself right now? You're drunk! You stay away from my boy or I swear to God I'll call the cops. Go sleep it off, Dad."_

_His grandfather had stormed out of the room as his dad wrapped his arms around him, making soothing noises and holding him tight..._

A tug on his arm brought him back to the present. "You can't escape, you know. You set off two alarms just running out the door. My house is very secure."

Kurt stiffened and stood upright so quickly he got dizzy. He jerked his arm away from his kidnapper and took a stumbling step back. The cut at the back of his neck burned. After that horrible night, he no longer heard the voices in his head clearly. He had tried with every fiber of his being to not do anything weird or freaky, unless it was an accident. He just wanted to be _normal_ so his grandfather would like him and it wouldn't be so uncomfortable at home.

The man who had brought him here was still talking. "Not that I need electronics. A witch hunter can track you anywhere."

Kurt took a deep breath to calm and center himself. He had called himself a witch hunter earlier and had referred to the two men who'd attacked him as witch hunters as well. He remembered the emails he'd gotten warning him of hunters. And he had no idea what any of it meant. "Who are you? And what do you want of me?"

"Blaine Anderson. I need you to do a spell to take the death curse off my sister."

Kurt studied Blaine wordlessly for a moment. He stood a few feet away from him but still managed to loom in his presence. He was a big guy, huge, really, with dark, tousled curls that under different circumstances Kurt would have found to be incredibly sexy. Golden hazel eyes glowed from under thick brows. His tight t-shirt clung to his muscular chest and massive arms and enhanced the definition of his stomach. Everything about him was strong and threatening.

"And I suppose kidnapping me and scaring the living bejesus out of me is your way of asking nicely?" Kurt snapped with a raised brow, turning to sarcasm as a shield like he always did. He didn't like the fear he still felt pulsing through him. The fear that his grandfather had been right and that something was very wrong with him, something evil.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I was too busy saving your life to remember my manners," Blaine snapped back, sarcasm heavy in his own voice. "But even if I had asked, we both know what the answer would be. You witches could give a shit that a child's going to die..." he trailed off, jaw tightening.

Kurt shook his head. Just trying to keep up with this conversation made his head hurt. "What makes you think I can do anything to help you? Your sister needs a doctor, not a mechanic." A witch? Was that even possible?

Blaine stared at him levelly. "It's early in the curse. You should be able to do it."

Kurt felt the panic rising all over again. "You're insane! Or drunk or something! I'm not a witch! In case you haven't noticed, I'm not a woman!"

Blaine's gaze became a glare. "Playing dumb won't help you. Like some of the most powerful witches in history haven't been men. Do you think I'm an idiot? You're going to do this spell."

Kurt's wide eyes flicked quickly back and forth. Blaine was blocking the only way off the deck. He could turn back and run through the house, but where would he go from here? He wasn't even sure where _here_ was. And then there was the little girl. Kurt tilted his head, ignoring the burning pain that seared through him from his cut. "Playing dumb? You kidnap me and now you're talking crazy things like witches and hunters and curses? I don't know what you're talking about or why you chose me, but I can't help you."

Blaine stepped closer to Kurt. "You're telling me you don't even know that you're a witch?" he asked, his voice a mixture of incredulity and disbelief.

Kurt didn't know what to do. He wasn't sure how stable Blaine might or might not be or what he might do next. He had no idea what to do to extricate himself from the whole situation.

"That's exactly what I'm telling you," he said as he cautiously rubbed his hand along his split lip, wincing at the sharp stab of pain.

"I find that hard to believe," Blaine said mildly as he took another step closer to Kurt. "And you made your lip bleed again." His voice dropped to a low growl that swept over Kurt's skin, making it tingle.

Kurt stepped back away from Blaine, trying to put space between them but halting as his back hit the wall. His mind frantically tried to understand what was happening. Blaine was just a step away now. His eyes glowed golden, looking hot and feverish. The scent of sandalwood was stronger and Kurt felt it literally _pulling_ at him. "Stop! Whatever it is you're doing, just stop! I need to think and I can't!"

"I can't stop. God, I wish I could," Blaine said in a low growl. He inhaled deeply. "You smell like vanilla. But your blood smells spicy."

Kurt's belly tightened as something fluttered deep and low inside him. He tried to process what Blaine was saying but nothing was making any sense. All he knew was that the closer Blaine got to him, the bigger the strange feeling inside of him, the need, grew. "What do you think you're doing?"

Blaine focused on Kurt's mouth, his eyes narrowing. "You're bleeding."

Kurt shivered. "I know. You said that already." He stood frozen by the intensity in Blaine's eyes, trapped as something he couldn't explain wove itself around the two of them.

Blaine continued to stare at his mouth. "Your blood calls to me." He raised one hand and gently slid his thumb across Kurt's lower lip, wiping the blood away.

Kurt gasped as a shockwave raced through him when Blaine came in contact with his blood. Deep inside, he felt the strangest swirling and tugging, as though there were parts of himself long closed off that wanted to open to Blaine. He grabbed Blaine's wrist to pull his hand off his face, but instead for some unfathomable reason found himself holding onto it like an anchor in a storm. Confusion welled up inside him as he struggled to make sense of what was happening. "How can I possibly be a witch?" he whispered brokenly, the words tearing themselves from his very soul. Had his grandfather been right, he was something evil? Was that why his birth mother gave him away?

Blaine tore his gaze from Kurt's mouth, moving up to lock onto his eyes, his own burning with intensity. "My witch now. I've touched your blood. You belong to me. You're _mine_," he said, his voice rough and possessive.

Kurt's heart pounded. Blaine's eyes burned into him and suddenly changed, the warm hazel turning mirror like. He could see his own blue eyes in the depths but felt something pulling him closer. Even though he held his wrist, Blaine easily slid his thumb over his lower lip again before sliding it into his mouth. For the first time, the voices in his head calmed to low white noise. The taste of Blaine's skin seared Kurt's tongue and erotic images danced through his mind. Tears of recognition welled up as his eyes fluttered shut and he swayed forward, wanting, no-_needing_ to be closer.

Blaine pulled his thumb out of Kurt's mouth to cup his chin as he leaned down to kiss him.

"Blaine!" called a feminine voice from inside the house.

A low, threatening growl rumbled up from Blaine's chest as he slid his hand around to gently cup Kurt's head just above the neck. He traced Kurt's lips with his tongue, the movement teasing and intimate. Kurt relaxed and leaned into him more, needing contact.

"Blaine!" The voice was closer.

Blaine went still, looking like a predator about to attack. He looked at Kurt with a deep, possessive hunger. Kurt gasped as he was sure he saw the shadow of a hawk, his hawk, in the reflection of Blaine's eyes. Blaine jerked his hand away from Kurt as his mother came outside. He looked at the thumb that had wiped the blood from Kurt's mouth. It was vanishing, disappearing into his skin.

Deirdre stopped a few feet away, looking horrified. "Blaine! You touched his blood! You have to go now! You have to get away from him, he'll destroy you!"

"I can't." Blaine kept his intense gaze on Kurt.

Deirdre hurried to Kurt's side. "Let me take him inside. He's hurt, he needs-"

"Don't get between us," Blaine said, his voice a near snarl.

Kurt felt his confusion and fear grow. How could he destroy Blaine, or anyone for that matter? It was far more likely Blaine would destroy _him_. Already he was forcing him to acknowledge something about himself that he had fought against for so long. Even Blaine's mother recognized there was something wrong with him and thought he would somehow harm Blaine.

"I'm not a witch!" he protested again.

His words were ignored as Blaine and Deirdre faced each other. "We need him to take the curse off of Sammy," Deirdre said.

"He'll do it," Blaine answered as his possessive gaze raked over Kurt again.

Kurt felt frustration building up hot in his chest. Nothing he said was getting through to either of them. Remembering that he had a few skills of his own, he lowered his voice and said, "I'm of no use to you. Just let me go."

Blaine narrowed his eyes and let out a huff of humorless laughter. "Don't try charming me with your voice. It isn't going to work. The only chance you have to stay alive is to do exactly what I tell you."

"Blaine..." Deirdre nervously broke in.

"Mom, go back inside. _Now_." Blaine cut her off, his voice harsh. She lowered her head and went back inside.  
Blaine grabbed Kurt by the arm and pulled.

"No! Don't touch me!" Kurt dug in his feet and pulled back, trying to put up what resistance he could. He cursed himself for not running while he had the chance. And it was so much harder to think when Blaine touched him. He felt a flash of relief when Blaine let him go, but it was short lived as Blaine easily scooped him up and strode into the house. Wordlessly, he carried him down the hallway and turned into the huge master bedroom. Kurt caught a quick glance of a large bed and some sort of computer equipment set up on one side before Blaine went into the massive en suite bathroom. There was a huge glass-doored shower and a luxurious whirlpool tub in the corner.

Blaine carried Kurt into the large walk-in closet.

"What the hell are you doing?" Kurt yelled, his voice a mixture of fear and confusion.

"Keeping you alive," Blaine answered shortly, his voice cold. He held his hand up against a mirror hung at the back of the closet. A sliding panel moved silently to the side, revealing a set of stairs. Blaine walked through and as the panel slid closed behind them, low lighting automatically flickered to life, lighting the way as he descended the stairs.

Terror and panic raced through Kurt like ice water in his bloodstream. Visions of torture and who-knew-what-else flashed through his mind. He struggled, trying to free himself from Blaine's iron hold. Blaine tightened his grip, moving so that Kurt's hands were trapped between them. "Whoa, take it easy. I'm not going to hurt you. I need you too much."

Kurt was furious and scared. It had been a bitch of a day and he had been through hell. He thought of the two men who had attacked him and hurt him. He thought of Blaine threatening him with his knife. The knife! He had seen Blaine put it in the holster at his back. His pounding heart shot into his throat in terror. _No_. He was a Hummel and damned if he would go down without a fight. Kurt felt energy building up inside of him as he concentrated on the knife. The energy writhed and swirled into a ball in his chest before escaping outward.

Blaine came to a dead halt in the hallway, a look of surprise on his face. His knife had slipped out of its holster and was circling around him. Kurt watched the knife in shock, the hair on the back of his neck prickling with a strange sort of connection to the knife. He thought quickly. The hallway where they stood was small. Blaine would have to drop him to avoid the knife. Then he could escape.

But Blaine didn't let go of him. He stayed utterly still, watching the knife with wary eyes that widened as it swung towards him. He ducked to avoid the blade, but the hilt glanced off his right cheek. He grunted at the slight impact.

A split second later, pain slammed into Kurt's right cheekbone, snapping his head back with the force of it. He squeezed his eyes shut as tears slid down his face. Pain radiated outward like a ripple in a pond and his ears buzzed as a wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him.

"Fucking hell, what did you think would happen?" Blaine shouted, his voice echoing in the hallway and causing Kurt to flinch. Blaine lifted Kurt closer to him, almost as if he were cuddling him. "Breathe. Easy now. It'll stop in a minute. Breathe through it," he said quietly, his voice sounding almost gentle.

Kurt struggled to do as he said._ Breathe. In. Now out. Again._ Finally the pain dulled and he could think again. What had just happened? Had he done that? Had he been the one to make the knife do that? But the knife hit Blaine. So why did his face feel like he'd gone a round with Floyd Mayweather? Slowly, he raised his eyes to look at Blaine. There was a fading red mark on his right cheek that was disappearing even as he watched. The thought that Blaine must heal fast flashed through Kurt's mind briefly before confusion set in. "What just happened?"

Blaine breathed out, his irritation apparent. "You let your emotions get the better of you and flipped. You used your powers to try to stab me with my knife. Did you forget about witch karma? I barely felt that, but you've gone and given yourself a black eye!"

The pain was settling into a dull and steady throb. "What are you yelling at me for? I'm the one who just got bitch slapped by witch karma, whatever the fuck that is," Kurt snarled.

Blaine stared at him for a second and a reluctant grin twitched on his lips. "Touché." But then his expression hardened and he walked into a small room as though nothing had happened. He set Kurt down to stand on the tile floor. Without a word, he strode out to the highway to pick his knife up from the floor and slide it back into his holster. He turned back to Kurt.

"Get started. This used to be a wet bar that we've converted to a work area for you. Mom stocked it with everything she could think you might possibly need, but if you need anything, we'll get it," Blaine said from the doorway, his massive form filling it.

Kurt's eyes traveled along the granite counter, sink and cabinets. He was confused. What exactly were they expecting him to do? "I don't understand. Start what?"

Blaine grit his teeth. "Stop it. You just demonstrated your witch powers by trying to stab me with my own knife. We don't have much time. The death curse will kill Sammy at the full moon. Get started." He turned and left, closing the door behind him.

Kurt looked around, right cheek throbbing, trying to take it all in. There were neatly labeled drawers containing such things as salt, incense, silver, and varied dried herbs. There were candles in different colors. A small scale stood next to a stack of measuring bowls. He noticed a small bed in one corner and took a deep shuddering breath. This room was his prison, and he was in a lot of trouble.

* * *

Blaine paced his bedroom like a caged animal. He had a vicious, raging hard on for the witch. None of it made sense. The curse made hunters crave the witch's blood, not sex. The sex part of the curse was a highly increased sex drive, not this painful mixture of _need_ and _want_ and _own_. Needing a distraction, he went to his computer and keyed in.

Mike's face appeared on the screen. "What's up?"

"What do you have on Kurt Hummel?" Blaine questioned. The Warblers had the kill sheet Damian had given Blaine that told him where Kurt lived, worked, shopped, banked, everything they might need to track him.

Mike frowned. "Did you get him?"

Blaine grunted the affirmative. "He's in the room now. But he claims he doesn't know what he is." Blaine had heard the desperation in Kurt's voice as he had repeatedly denied being a witch. He'd seen the abject shock and terror on Kurt's face when he'd seen Sammy's mark. Hell, he'd _felt_ all of it. And then Kurt had used his powers to try to stab him with his own knife. Either he was incredibly stupid, or he honestly didn't know about witch karma. But what witch didn't know about that?

On the computer screen, Mike raised an eyebrow. "You couldn't feel his power?"

Oh, yeah. He'd felt it. He had smelled it in his blood, sweet and spicy. He had felt the sizzle and surge of it when he touched his blood. He had seen it when he tried to stab him. But it was Blaine's own reaction that was so unusual. He hadn't wanted to kill Kurt. No. He wanted to fuck him. He wanted to strip him down and possess him. Even the pain Kurt was in bothered him. "I felt it. He's definitely a witch. But does he know it?"

He turned to look at the second monitor and sucked in a harsh breath as all the blood in his brain rushed south. Kurt had taken off his shirt and stood at the counter with his back to the camera mounted in the corner. He'd removed the makeshift bandage and had a cloth in his hand, trying to clean all the blood off himself. His skin was pale and silvery, stretched over his shoulder blades. His jeans were obviously opened and slung lower on his hips so that the top of his briefs were exposed. He was reaching back, trying to dab at the oozing cut, muscles contracting in pain. But there were herbs in the room, things he could use to ease the pain. Why didn't he..._fuck_. Blaine was starting to believe him.

"Blaine."

Blaine forced his gaze from watching Kurt on the screen. He looked at Mike on the other screen. "What'd you find?"

"Let's see. An emergency room visit years ago with a deep cut to the neck. He had a severe allergic reaction to the meds and nearly died. Nothing else since. Birth records indicate...oh, shit," Mike swore.

"Tell me. What is it?"

"Kurt's adopted. He was raised by a man who was a single father. His dad wasn't allergic to any meds," Mike said as he read off his screen.

"His adoptive dad wasn't a witch, then." Blaine's gaze swung back to the monitor to stare at Kurt. Kurt had turned around towards the camera, cleaning frantically with the now bloody cloth. His desperate face was drawn with pain and fear. Blaine saw the intricate silver necklace he wore that lay against his fair skin. His chest was toned with pale pink nipples, and his stomach and hips were cut and defined. Blaine felt the lust in him ramp up to ball squeezing need while at the same time his stomach dropped. He believed Kurt. "He doesn't know he's a witch. He's not gonna know how to remove a death curse. I am so totally fucked."

"He can still do it. There's some time. We'll help him," Mike said.

Blaine shook his head. "I have to get him out of here," he said, desperation and lust turning his voice hoarse.

Mike's voice was sharp. "If you do, he's as good as dead. I hacked into the Junto database, and he's been moved to kill number one. They want this witch dead."

Blaine remembered the rogues that had found Kurt. "What did he do to catch their attention? Why are they after him if he doesn't even know he's a witch?"

Mike studied the screen he was working on. "I have no idea. All I see is that he registered for a birth parent search. I don't get why something like that would catch the rogues' attention. Something caught their eye, though, and they are determined to kill him."

A strange protective feeling surged through Blaine. All for a witch. He ignored it, unsure of what to make of it. "None of this solves my problem. I have a witch that hasn't got a clue how to break a curse and seven days until the waxing gibbous moon." An earth witch could only spell against a curse up until that moon phase. After that, only killing the demon witch that cast the spell would break a curse. And once the true full moon hit, nothing would save Sammy if the curse hadn't been broken.

Mike leaned back and looked directly into the camera. "Can you control your compulsion around him long enough for him to learn a spell? Surely it can't be that hard, not for a powerful male witch. And it will be safer than trying to find another witch, especially with the Junto on your back."

Blaine stared back at his friend, swallowing before he spoke. "No. I've touched his blood."

Mike's brown eyes widened in surprise. "Is he still alive?"

Blaine absently brought his hand up to touch the hollow feeling place in his chest. He was trying with everything he had to keep his eyes on Mike and not look to the monitor showing Kurt. "Yes. But he's in me now." It was a losing battle. He looked at Kurt again. Kurt was trying to wash some of the blood off his shirt. Blaine could see the wide shoulders that tapered to a narrow waist, muscles flexing as he moved. "I need him," Blaine said truthfully, voice deep.

Mike pursed his lips thoughtfully. "Can you have sex with him and not kill him?"

Sweat ran down Blaine's back. "I don't know." Because he wanted his blood, too, he wanted all of Kurt. But what if he lost his control during sex and cut him to get to his blood? Once it happened, he wouldn't be able to stop until he was dead.

Mike was typing quickly on his keyboard. "I'm going to find out everything I can on how to break a death curse. The way I see it, you have a couple of options to choose from; you can send your mom in to deal with the witch and you stay away from him."

Blaine knew that wouldn't happen. "Or?"

"We already know that sex with mortals helps us control the compulsion. Find out if the same rule applies with a witch,'' Mike said as he scrolled through the page he was looking at on his screen.

"Find out what you can. I'll worry about keeping the witch alive " Blaine said, ending the connection and standing up.

He prowled around his room restlessly. Kurt was like a magnet, a steady pull that he couldn't resist. He went through the sliding panel in his closet down to the lower level. He had designed and built the safe house so his family and friends could hide on the bottom floor if they were ever attacked. There were furnished bedrooms, a small office, and an office he had set up for himself, as well as a hidden garage. There was also an arsenal of weapons, should it be needed.

He had set Kurt up in the room across from his office. It had a specially designed lock that would engage a secondary lock should the first one be tripped, and an additional third one after that. Even then, it wasn't completely witch proof, but it would definitely slow one down. But Kurt hadn't even tried to open it. Blaine held his hand up to the lock mechanism to disengage the lock and pushed the door open.

Kurt whirled around, holding his wet shirt in front of his bare chest. He looked so vulnerable that Blaine again felt that same protective feeling, combined with a surge of lust. _Mine_. His sharp gaze focused on the scar on Kurt's neck. That had to be the one that sent him to the emergency room. He quickly closed the distance between them and tilted Kurt's chin back with his fingertips. Kurt's blue eyes flashed fearfully before he jerked his chin out of Blaine's grasp and stepped back to move away from him.

Blaine didn't step after him. He was determined to save Sammy, but he didn't want to frighten Kurt any more than he already had. And he most definitely didn't want a repeat of the pain Kurt had suffered from witch karma earlier.

"Take it easy, I only want to see your scar." He pressed his thumb gently against it and was caught off guard when he felt the heat. "When were you attacked by a witch hunter?"

Kurt glared at him angrily. "Let go of me."

Blaine realized he had wrapped his hand possessively around Kurt's arm. His blood was running hot just from being able to breathe in Kurt's scent. He wanted more. It took supreme effort to let go of Kurt's arm. He breathed in once more, needing to have the tantalizing scent teasing his senses.

"Tell me what happened."

Kurt closed his eyes for a moment before he said anything. "I was sixteen. I had confronted a guy who had been bullying me and, somehow, during the confrontation, I was cut."

Blaine could sense Kurt backing away from the truth. There was something more to the story he wasn't saying. "You were cut with witch karma. Like what happened today, you probably used your powers to stab the hunter with his own knife. When any intentional harm is done with magic, witch karma comes back on the witch times three." He looked at Kurt intently. "What happened? You know exactly what happened that day."

Kurt stepped back away from him and rubbed his hands up and down his arms before crossing them over his chest protectively, still holding his shirt in front of him. "No one believed me. He had been acting weird around me for weeks, pushing me into lockers and being really aggressive. I thought it was because I was gay. One day I finally had enough and I followed him into the locker room. It was just the two of us in there. I honestly didn't think anything of it. I yelled at him, telling him that he was ordinary and that he couldn't beat the gay out of me any more than I could beat the ignoramus out of him. And then suddenly, he kissed me."

Blaine tensed and saw red as jealous, possessive rage raced through him like an electric current. But Kurt wasn't finished with his story yet.

"I pushed him away from me. It was wrong, all of it. It was my first kiss, my first by another guy, and it was stolen from me just like that. And suddenly, he's got me pressed against the lockers with a knife held to my neck, telling me he's going to kill me. And I had to fight back. I couldn't stop it. The energy just built up and poured out. It grabbed the knife and jabbed him in the neck, barely even a nick. And the next thing I know, my neck just splits open. There was so much blood and it hurt so bad. I thought I was going to die."

Blaine was enraged. Kurt had been _sixteen_! What the hell were the witches thinking, letting him be adopted by a mortal? He had managed to survive a hunter, a young one with little control at that, and then nearly been killed by the hospital staff when they pumped him full of synthetic medicines for pain. "What happened with the hunter after that?"

"My step-brother. At least, he would have been under different circumstances. Our friend Quinn saw me follow the guy into the locker room and she went and got him. He came in and saw what was happening and pulled the guy away while Quinn got the cheerleading coach to come deal with the situation," Kurt said.

"What did the hunter do after that?" asked Blaine.

"It's hard to really remember," Kurt said with a frown. "He actually seemed so horrified and shocked, almost like he'd snapped out of a trance."

He shivered as memories replayed the self in his mind, along with the frightening realization of a truth he had long tried to suppress.

"Bloodlust. He lost control, but he wasn't a rogue, otherwise you would be dead," Blaine stated matter-of-factly.

"What do you mean, bloodlust?" Kurt asked, his voice sounding small and vulnerable.

Blaine felt the need to touch him strengthen with each breath he took. He looked way too sexy, even holding his wet bloodstained shirt in front of himself. Blaine took a hold of his own shirt at the neck and pulled it over his head to take it off. He held it out to Kurt.

"Here. Put this on and I'll explain."

Kurt gave him a suspicious look and tossed his wet shirt onto the countertop before pulling Blaine's shirt over his head. Blaine caught his breath. For a brief second, he saw Kurt's bare chest with only the silver necklace adorning his skin, resting against the faint witch shimmer that no camera or mortal eye would pick up on. Many witches had a golden shimmer, but Kurt's was pale silver. There was a light dusting of hair on his chest with a trail that ran from under his navel and disappeared into the waistline of his jeans. Pink nipples had hardened from the wet shirt and cool air. He was even more stunning in the flesh, making Blaine's mouth water and his cock jump to attention. He clenched his hands into fists to keep from touching him.

Sammy. The spell. Kurt was there to do a spell. Blaine had to remember that. It was easier said than done, especially given his state of sexual awareness.

Kurt tried to ignore the more than pleasant warmth of the borrowed shirt he was wearing. "I can't help you. Don't you see that? I don't know magic. I just want to go back to my life. My family and friends will be worried." His lips tightened when Blaine shook his head.

"Not possible. You'll be dead within the day if I let you go. The men that attacked you tonight? Those were witch hunters."

Kurt raised an eyebrow. "You mean like you? You hunt witches?"

Blaine needed to make him understand. "No, not like me. Not yet, anyway. Thanks to witches, hunters are cursed to crave witch blood. If we give in to that craving, we lose our soul. Turn rogue. Rogues can't stop killing witches for the power in their blood. It's like an addiction, they have to have it. And now that they've found you, they aren't going to stop."

"But I didn't even know I was a witch!" Kurt protested.

"They know that. They found you and moved you to the top of their kill list. Those tonight were just the first. There will be more and they'll keep coming. They'll kill anyone who gets in their way. Family, friends, it doesn't matter. They want your blood," Blaine said, trying to get Kurt to believe him and accept the seriousness of his situation. "I'm the only chance you have of staying alive. You work to help my sister and I'll protect you from them." He fought down a new wave of desire and lust. It was painful, the craving for Kurt and the want for sex, his blood, the very essence of him.

Kurt's eyes were wary. "You're one of them. What's to stop you from killing me?"

Blaine was at the very edge of his control. Lust had him literally by the balls and the compulsion screamed for blood. He broke out into a sweat that beaded and ran down his torso.

"Sex. I want to fuck you more than I want to kill you." Blaine knew he needed to get out of there before he lost control completely. Kurt was injured, in pain, and he needed to heal. There was no way he could risk sex with him while there was any blood on him. The blood would inflame the compulsion until he killed him to get to the rest of it. Blaine knew this, yet every one of his nerves screamed at him to take Kurt now. To tear those tight jeans off him, bend him over the nearest surface and bury himself inside him. To hold him tight against him while he fucked into him again and again, filling him up and making him his and _only_ his.

Kurt's face flushed red with fury. "That's your solution? Let you fuck me and you won't kill me? I am not having sex with you! You won't force me like that."

Blaine's patience was running short. His cock was painfully hard and trapped in his jeans, and his balls fucking hurt. His skin burned like it was on fire.

"I have _never_ forced a guy before, and I sure as hell wouldn't have to force you. Would I, Kurt?" He stepped close enough to Kurt that he could feel the heat given off by his witch shimmer, but he didn't dare touch him.

Kurt sucked in a breath. "Why do I feel strange? What are you doing to me?"

"Pheromones. Hunters attract sexual partners with pheromones. But this is different. Maybe because I touched your blood." Sweat caused by need and lust beaded on his skin, tickling as it rolled down.

Kurt crossed his arms over his chest in a protective movement and looked away. "Or maybe you're an arrogant ass who's used to having guys fall at his feet."

Blaine blinked at him in surprise. No one had ever stood up to him like this, challenged him. It inflamed him, making his blood run even hotter, and he wanted Kurt even more. It was time to get out of there. He turned and headed for the door, intent on making a quick exit before he did something rash.

Kurt's gasp stopped him in his tracks. "A hawk. It's a hawk."

_His tattoo._ "Yes." Blaine stood where he was, telling himself to open the door and leave. He stiffened as Kurt stepped closer to him, his soft voice pouring over him and caressing his skin. "He looks so real. Almost as though I could feel his feathers if I touched him."

Blaine opened his mouth, but it was too late. He felt Kurt's fingers lightly touch his right shoulder where the tip of the wings of his tattoo began. The bird's wings were straight up as though he was coming in for a landing, covering most of his back. Kurt traced the wings down to the waist of Blaine's jeans, the soft touch searing fire straight to his cock. Then suddenly the touch was gone. Blaine missed it immediately.

"Skin. Not feathers," Kurt whispered softly.

Blaine turned back to face Kurt. The sight of his shirt that had just recently been against his own skin now against Kurt's shimmering witch skin gave him a primal sense of satisfaction and made his hands positively itch to touch him and lay claim to him. Before he could think, one arm caught Kurt about the waist and pulled him close so that their faces were nearly touching.

"Teasing me, witch?" he said, his voice coming out in a low growl.

"Let me go, or I'll..." Kurt began.

Blaine kissed him, cutting off his threat and laying claim to his mouth, tracing his lips with his tongue. Static crackled in the room in small bursts of Kurt's undisciplined powers. The rush of it against Blaine's skin went straight to his cock, making it grow impossibly harder and twitch in painful arousal. He curled his hand behind Kurt's head to angle his mouth open and felt the warmth of his hands as they grasped his shoulders tightly when he parted his lips.

Blaine slid his tongue against Kurt's and nearly groaned in pleasure. His mouth was so hot and tasted so good. He could feel the heat of his skin against his own even through the shirt. Kurt's body spoke to his. He could smell his desire, a heady spice that grew and surrounded them both. He slid his hand down Kurt's thigh and under his knee, pulling it up high over his hip and bringing their cocks close together. He pulled him into his hard on straining against the zipper of his jeans, grinding into him.

Blaine could feel Kurt hard and needy against him. Kurt was as hot for him as he was for Kurt. Whatever this was between them, it was powerful. He kissed him harder.

Kurt's flinch and startled gasp pierced through his raging lust. Blaine tore his mouth away from Kurt's. He saw the blood welling up on his lip.

"_Shit_." Blaine cursed.

He had torn the new scab and Kurt was bleeding again. The smell was intoxicating, but he felt sick. He had never hurt a guy he'd had sex with, ever. He was always careful. Abruptly, he let go of Kurt, stepping back. His deep intake of breath was full of Kurt's sweetly spiced scent and fresh blood.

"I have to get out of here," he whispered, turning to the door.

"Wait!" Kurt called.

Blaine couldn't wait, he had to get out. He yanked open the door.

"I won't be locked up!" The panic in Kurt's voice caused Blaine to pause and yanked him around to look at him. It was a mistake. Kurt looked vulnerable and vibrant at the same time.

Blaine tried to keep his voice calm. "You're perfectly safe here. I'm going to help you any way I can to break the curse on Sammy."

Kurt took a step towards the door. "Don't lock me up. _Please_."

Blaine could smell the fear coming from Kurt, a sickly sweet scent that he didn't like one bit coming from him. But for Kurt's safety, he had to get away from him. Resolutely ignoring the palpable fear, he said, "You'll be fine." He closed the door and engaged the lock.

There was a loud thud as something hit the door and shattered. "You _bastard_!"

* * *

Kurt had thrown the first thing he had gotten his hands on, a small pottery bowl, when Blaine closed and locked the door. He walked over to the granite countertop and started searching through the drawers. He found more candles of all size and color. He found bowls and towels. There was a small mini fridge built in that was filled with bottled water and different oils. But there was nothing that would help him escape.

He walked to the door on the other side of the room and discovered a small bathroom. There were towels, soaps, shampoo, a toothbrush and toothpaste, and a few other toiletries. But still nothing he could use.

Back in the room there was a small desk against the wall near the bed that had paper and pencils, but nothing else. Absolutely nothing he could use to escape or force them to let him out. But he _had_ to get out. Tina would be frantic with worry, wondering what had happened to him. Finn would be worried and angry. Kurt wanted to help the girl, really he did, but he had never been able to control what it was inside of him. He had spent most of his life trying to contain it. Not that it had done him any good. People thought he was a freak. His grandfather never had accepted him. And now he was in a real mess.

But how could he leave that little girl? Sammy's face was burned into his brain, horrible death mark and all. He rubbed his hand over his face and winced when he touched his sore cheek. Sore because of witch karma.

A witch. He had to face it, couldn't hide from it or deny it anymore. Everything over the years added up. And when he had touched Blaine's hawk, he had been able to feel what he was and what the curse had done to him.

But damn it, he wasn't going to be locked up!

He studied the door. There was some sort of black pad in the center of a metal plate. Was it some sort of sensor or handprint lock? Maybe he could unlock it somehow. Anything was better than staying locked in the room. His breathing was starting to come in shorter breaths and he was starting to feel like the walls were closing in on him. He had to stay angry and hold on to that. But when he looked back at the door, he felt the familiar choking sensation squeezing his chest. The sensation of being closed in away from the world. He shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. _Let me out!_ he thought desperately, feeling a wave of energy move through him.

Was that a click he heard? He ran to the door and tried to open it. But it was still locked. He was locked in a room. A dungeon below ground level. Panic started, increasing his breath more and causing his heart to pound. Memories of being locked in a small dark place overwhelmed him. He moaned softly, eyes darting back and forth with pupils dilated with fear. He grabbed a large metal stool from under the counter and raised it high above his head, bringing it down to crash against the lock. A loud clash echoed in the room. He tried the lock again, but it held fast. He was still locked in.

_No fucking way_.

He picked up the stool and hit the lock again and again until pain seared up his arms.

He dropped the stool, staring at the scratched but still engaged lock. He was panting and fighting against the choking claustrophobia. As a child, whenever he was this frightened, his hawk had come to him and wrapped his wings around him, making him feel safe. There was no hawk here, no one to help him. The feeling of being closed in wrapped its icy fingers around his throat and chest and squeezed. Tears slid unheeded down his cheeks. He picked up the stool again. Forget the lock, he would bash the fucking door until it splintered and he could get out. He raised it over his head.

"Kurt!" yelled a woman's voice through the door. "Stop! Please stop. I'm opening the door."

Kurt stepped back but kept a tight hold on the stool. Could he maybe hit whoever it was and run?

The door swung open and there stood Deirdre with Sammy behind her. Kurt set the stool down. He couldn't hit a woman, and sure as hell wouldn't do it while her child watched. Nor would he risk hurting the child.

"Come out," Deirdre said. She held out her hand encouragingly. "There's a kitchen down the hall. We'll make some tea."

Kurt eyed her suspiciously. Was this some sort of trick? "Where is he?"

"Blaine's not here." Deirdre walked into the room and offered her hand again. She looked at his tear streaked face and took his hand. When she looked back up at him, her eyes were sincere with regret. "I saw you on the cameras, but I didn't get here in time. Your hand is swelling. Let's get some ice on it."

* * *

**TBC**

**ittlebitz . tumblr . com**


	4. Moving Forward

**Title:** Hot Under My Skin

**Author:** Ittlebitz

**Pairing:** Kurt/Blaine

**Rating:** NC-17 over all, PG 13ish this chapter

**Warnings for this chapter: **Violence, minor character death

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. I don't own Glee or any of its characters. I own a copy of the book Blood Magic and a cat that thinks he helps when he sits in my lap.

**Author's Note: **Again, many thanks to my bestie Sam for doing me the honor of beta reading this chapter and sorting it out...

**Gort Na Gréine is Gaelic for 'Field of the Sun' (at least that's what the internet tells me)**

* * *

The ice on Kurt's hand helped ease some of the pain. Deirdre heated water for tea and poured milk to warm for Sammy. When Kurt mentioned how he, too, enjoyed warm milk, she poured more into the pan to heat enough for them both.

Kurt sat at the small table considering his options. Deirdre said Blaine wasn't there, he could possibly get away from her and make a run for it. But he didn't know where he was. Even though he had honestly tried to see where Blaine took him, it was as though his memory was fogged. All he could remember was the dense forest around the house. And then there were the men who had tried to kill him. Were there truly more out there looking for him to finish the job?

"Do you like tea parties?" piped up Sammy. She was sitting across the table from Kurt and seemed as though she was feeling better than she had been before. She watched Kurt with huge eyes.

Kurt felt himself unthaw the tiniest bit. "When I was a boy I had them all the time." He had played with his stuffed animals, dolls, and the voices in his head. If Burt wasn't working, he often joined in.

Deirdre placed a mug of warm milk in front of him and sat down with her tea. "Kurt, I promise you we aren't going to hurt you. We are desperate and we need you. For Sammy."

He could see the worry etched plainly on the woman's face. He found he could relate. "My dad was sick a lot when I was growing up."

Deirdre's eyes filled with sympathy. "That must have been hard on you."

Kurt shrugged. "He had a weak heart. He worked hard. Probably too hard." He didn't mention that when Burt had his first episode that landed him in the hospital that his grandfather blamed him, stating he brought on Burt's stress with his freakishness. He had been so scared and lonely. He would sneak out at night and lie on the grass under the moonlight, talking to the voices. If his grandfather ever caught him, he would go ballistic, yelling at him to stop all his crazy bullshit. Then he would drag him to the hall closet and lock him in. He would be terrified and crying himself sick until his hawk would come and settle his warm wings around him. It would make him feel safe and he would be able to sleep.

"Blaine's mad when I'm sick. The spot on my forehead makes him really mad," Sammy said as she lifted her mug of milk. "He plays tea party with me lots."

Kurt felt the corners of his mouth twitch at the mental picture of the huge, overbearing man who had killed two men at his shop and snatched him, playing tea party with his little sister.

Sammy kept up her chatter. "I wish I had my swing set here. When Blaine pushes me, I can touch the clouds. Do you like to swing?"

Kurt watched her as she took another sip of her milk. She was obviously a bright kid, and she adored her brother.

"Well? Do you?"

Kurt realized Sammy was looking at him expectantly. "Do I what?"

Sammy frowned and looked at Kurt like he might be a little slow. "Like to swing?"

For the first time he almost did smile. He couldn't help it, the little girl was quite the charmer. "I love it. It feels like flying."

Sammy bounced in her chair. "Sometimes when Mom pushes me I jump out and Blaine catches me."

Deirdre gave her daughter a mock stern look. "He also sneaks cookies and shares them with you when you two don't think I'm looking," she said. She reached across the table and took Kurt's uninjured hand. "I should have stopped Blaine from locking you in. Please. I'll do anything you want, but please help us. Help my little girl."

Kurt could feel Deirdre's powerful love and fear for Sammy sinking into his skin to touch his heart. If he did have the means to help this little girl, how could he possibly walk away?

**Death Mark Day 4**

The sound of footsteps jerked Kurt awake. He bit his lip to keep from crying out in pain. His entire body hurt.

Blaine walked in wearing a dark t-shirt and jeans. He had a steaming cup in one hand and a large bag in the other. He put the bag on the desk and walked towards him. "Here. Drink this. Mom made it to help with the soreness and to keep your hands busy so you leave my furniture alone."

Kurt sat up in the bed and gave him a sour look. "Your concern is touching." He glared at the mug Blaine held out to him.

Blaine raised an eyebrow. "It's just tea with herbs."

"As if I would trust you." Kurt was too sore and tired to fight. He wanted to go home. His right hand felt like he'd put it through a meat grinder. He flexed it, trying to work out the stiffness and tenderness.

Blaine set the tea to one side and wrapped his fingers around his wrist, dropping to his haunches to look at his hand. Kurt tried to snatch his hand back but Blaine held him in a firm yet gentle grip.

"It's not broken, but you bruised the hell out of it," Blaine said, frowning.

"Yeah, well, I figured I'd give the whole witchcraft thing a go. The guys who attacked me last night swore I was holding the door closed with witchcraft, so I tried to summon that intensity to open the door. Needless to say, it didn't work," Kurt huffed. It was a little insulting to be forced to acknowledge that he was something other than mortal, then fail at that when he needed it most.

Blaine lifted his gaze. "The locks are a special design. Even if you tripped one lock with your powers, another would engage automatically. It will do the same thing with physical force, like smashing it with a stool."

Kurt stared at him. "I won't be locked up."

Blaine stroked his wrist with his thumb. ''I get that."

Blaine's touch eased the pain in Kurt's wrist. It made him nervous that he responded to Blaine unlike he had to any other man. "I want to go home."

Blaine kept up his stroking motion on his wrist. "You can't. Make no mistake, the rogues are after you. I ran into two last night at your apartment. You're safer here where I can protect you."

"You went to my apartment?"

"I got you some clothes and some things you might need. You were safe. My mom is a crack shot if it comes down to it." He was still stroking Kurt's wrist.

"I didn't see a gun when she let me out last night," Kurt said. There hadn't been anywhere in Deirdre's sweats that indicated she was carrying a gun.

"The gun is for protection, not to hurt you. We only want to save Sammy's life. Mom was worried about you," Blaine answered. He reached down with his free hand and retrieved the hot tea. He held it where Kurt could take it. "Drink."

Kurt took the tea. If Blaine wanted him dead, he would wait until his sister was uncursed, so the tea was probably safe. "What about the rogues at my apartment?" he asked as he took a sip.

Blaine's mouth tightened. "They're dead."

Kurt nearly choked on his tea. "What?"

Blaine let go of his hand. "They attacked me, and I killed them."

Kurt stared at Blaine. He was an enigma. He played with his baby sister, loved his mother, and killed that easily. Who was he?

"Drink your tea, then take a hot shower. My office is across the hall. I'll wait for you there and we'll figure out what to do next," Blaine said.

Kurt glanced up at the mounted cameras in either corner. "Are there cameras in the bathroom?"

Blaine's hazel eyes flared for a second as he rose to his feet. "No. None of the bathrooms in the house have cameras. The rest of the house is wired with cameras and security devices."

Kurt wasn't about to strip down for Blaine's viewing pleasure. "How do I know you're telling me the truth?"

Blaine looked down at him. "I don't need cameras if I want to spy on you, Kurt." He faded from view, causing Kurt to gasp and nearly drop his mug, and then materialized again.

"What did you just do?" demanded Kurt.

"Witch hunters are predators. We can shield our presence and we can be deadly quiet," Blaine explained.

Kurt's skin prickled in memory. "That's why I didn't see those two last night. I knew there was something there, but I couldn't see anything."

Blaine's voice pulsed with anger. "You saw them when they wanted you to. Terror drops adrenaline into your blood and gives them more power as they bleed you. Hunters can hide behind a shield and be invisible. And we're fast."

Kurt shuddered. He opened his mouth to ask more questions when Blaine cut him off.

"You have complete privacy in the bathroom. Your clothes are in that bag." He gestured towards the desk. "Get moving. We have less than a week for you to spell the curse off of Sammy. I'll be across the hall." Blaine turned and left.

The struggle in the air eased. Kurt knew it came from Blaine fighting the compulsion he'd told him about and struggling not become a rogue himself. He finished his tea and went to take his shower. Fifteen minutes later he walked across to Blaine's office wearing his own jeans, t-shirt, and a pair of Doc Martens. The idea of Blaine going through his underwear drawer was vaguely unsettling, but it wasn't creepy like the idea of rogues having been there was. He felt more like himself with his own clean clothes on, more in control.

Blaine was sitting behind a large desk. When Kurt entered the office, he turned to look at him. His hazel eyes swept over him from his still damp hair down to his shoes. Kurt looked back at him, taking in just how big Blaine was. His t-shirt was stretched tight over muscle and emphasized his broad shoulders. He was holding a cup of tea in a mug that looked practically child size in his large hand.

If Blaine wanted his blood, truthfully, Kurt was at his mercy. They were isolated, in the middle of nowhere. Having seen Blaine's disappearing act, Kurt knew he had somehow shielded him from being able to track where they were. He didn't trust him.

But he was drawn to him, and especially to the hawk. When he had touched the hawk on Blaine's skin, he had felt safe. And there had been more, as though there was something inside of him the hawk could show him. Maybe he really was crazy.

Blaine gestured to a thermos on his desk. "There's more tea if you want. Or coffee over there," he said, pointing to a coffeemaker on a table across the way. "My mom will bring breakfast for you soon." He looked at Kurt intently for a moment, then spoke again. "Don't run, Kurt. Don't run from me," he warned, his voice hard.

Kurt had started to look down towards the kitchen but Blaine's last words caught his attention.

"Yeah, I get it. Big, bad hunter," he quipped, mirroring Blaine's harsh tone.

Blaine glared at him. "You look like hell; black eye, split lip, not much sleep..."

Annoyed, Kurt strode into the room. "Thanks. It's a new look I'm trying. Called Kidnapped and Pissed."

He picked the thermos up from the desk and refilled his mug. Up until Blaine opened his big mouth, he had been feeling pretty good. The tea and the shower had helped with the pain and swelling. He heard a snort of laughter that didn't come from Blaine.

"Where did that come from? Who else is here?" he demanded, looking around and seeing a couch, several bookshelves and a flat screen TV. He remembered the way Blaine had disappeared. Was there someone else hiding there?

Blaine put his coffee down and hit a button on his computer keyboard. "Look behind you."

Kurt glanced over his shoulder and nearly dropped his tea. "Holy shit!" he yelped as the TV came to life and a face materialized on the screen; dark black hair, brown eyes, hard jaw, like a super hot athlete except his bulk was real and not because of steroids. He was huge. The image on the screen was so clear Kurt could see the small gold hoop in his pierced ear. "Who is that? Where is he?"

Blaine got up and walked around to sit on the edge of the desk not far from Kurt. "He's video conferencing from our warehouse. Mike's been looking for ways to link you to other witches. They won't have anything to do with us, but they should respond to you."

Kurt tore his eyes from the screen to look at Blaine. "Mike? He's a...like you?"

"A witch hunter," Blaine supplied.

"Is he a rogue?" asked Kurt.

"Mike, show him your palm," Blaine said.

The man on the screen held up his hand. Obviously he could see and hear them. Blaine motioned to the screen. "See the lines on his hand?"

Kurt nodded once. He did. "And?"

"A rogue has no lines on their palms. When they kill a witch and lose their soul, their lifelines vanish. When a rogue dies without his soul, he becomes a shade with no form and no world, forced to forever roam the emptiness between the worlds," Blaine explained.

Mike broke in. "See the screen? These are rogues." The screen split and Mike moved to the left. On the right was an image of two men. Like Blaine and apparently Mike, they were huge and muscular, but something wasn't quite right. Their faces didn't match their physique. Their faces looked almost feminine, with no beard shadow, almost as though they didn't have to shave. Their skin appeared smooth and hairless.

"Why do rogues look almost female in some ways and very male in others?" asked Kurt.

"Witch blood is absorbed through the skin. Since most witches are female, we assume that's the cause," Mike said. When Kurt bristled slightly, he quickly added, "I did say _most_ witches."

Kurt wasn't quite mollified but went back to staring at the rogues onscreen. They looked like the two that had attacked him at the shop, but something else bothered him. "There was a man at the cemetery after Dad's funeral. He looked like the rogues you showed me. His eyes were golden green and..."

Blaine made a low noise in the back of his throat. "My father. He assigned me to kill you."

Kurt blinked in surprise. "Your father? He's a rogue?"

"Yeah. He was most likely there to verify that you were a witch. If he'd been there to kill you, believe me, you'd be dead," Blaine said.

What it must be like to know your father was a cold blooded killer. Kurt had an insane urge to touch Blaine, to try and ease some of the hardness that lived inside him. But he contained himself. Blaine had kidnapped him and he had already told him he could barely control his craving for his blood. He was fighting against becoming like his father.

"How did the curse happen?" Kurt asked instead, pushing away his thoughts.

"Years ago three demon witches captured three hunters. They planned to curse them with a spell that would bind their souls as familiars, but the curse caught up all of the earth witches and witch hunters working together to stop it. One huge clusterfuck," Blaine replied.

"So back then, witches and hunters got along?" Kurt asked him.

Blaine nodded.

"Hunters protected earth witches and, in return, witches cast protection spells over their families so demon witches couldn't use them as leverage. If something like a death curse got through, the witches would heal the victim, and the hunters would find the demon witch and kill her, then provide protection for the witch who broke the curse."

That caught Kurt's attention. "The demon witch goes after the one who undoes a curse?" So he would have a demon witch coming after him. _Great_. How was he supposed to protect himself? Once Blaine got what he wanted from him, he was on his own.

"Kurt, you have to do this," Mike spoke from the screen. "We'll figure out a way to protect you. The only other choice we have is for Blaine to hunt down the witch and kill her."

"And then he'll go rogue," Kurt said softly. What choice did he have? He couldn't let the little girl die. He didn't really want the responsibility for Blaine's soul on his shoulders, but he wouldn't walk away. If he left, rogues were sure to find him. And they might kill others to get to him. He couldn't endanger his employees, his friends, or Finn.

"Oh, God, Finn," he gasped. "I need to call him, just to let him know I'm okay."

Blaine shot off the desk. "Finn? Who's Finn?"

"Shit, Blaine! Back off!" Mike's voice roared through the room.

Kurt was startled. He didn't know what had changed Blaine. He'd been tense, but not like this.

Blaine moved in closer. "Answer me, Kurt. Who is he? A boyfriend?"

Kurt looked up and saw Blaine's jaw was tight and his pupils enlarged. A surge of anger took place of his fear. He'd been attacked, kidnapped, locked up, and he was sick and tired of being pushed around. "Who I sleep with is none of your damn business!"

Blaine sucked in a breath. The air around them practically quivered with his fury. "You aren't going to be going out to fuck someone while I try to save Sammy!" He turned around and stormed out of the room.

"Oh, my fucking...Finn's practically my brother! It's nothing like that! Get your mind out of the gutter!" Kurt yelled, starting to tremble as his own temper rose. A slamming door was his answer. "Yeah, you ass, just go! Run away! Are you afraid of the witch?" He shook his head angrily. Maybe he had gone insane, saying something like that, believing he was just that, a witch.

Except it wasn't crazy. He knew it. Maybe some part of him had always known. He always had been different.

"You realize it's the bloodlust making him jealous and unreasonable, right?" Mike spoke from the screen.

Kurt stomped around the desk and plopped down in Blaine's chair. He needed to calm down. "Does everyone bow down to him? I won't be pushed around."

Mike sighed heavily. "You're gonna drive him to kill you."

Kurt stared back at the screen. "Sorry, I don't buy the whole 'Me caveman, can't help being an asshole' excuse. I'm not the type to cower."

"Noted," Mike answered dryly.

Kurt looked around the office. There wasn't any phone. He would find a way to contact Finn, but it was starting to hit him that even if he survived this and cured Sammy, he could never go back home to his family. The rogues would kill anyone to get him. And to top all of it, he was going to have to piss off a demon witch in the process. His grandfather had been right. He was a dangerous embarrassment. He had worked so hard to prove him wrong, show that he was worthy of acceptance and love. What a load of shit. He was a witch, a magical creature, and chased by an evil that would force him into hiding forever. How could he ever fall in love and subject a man to that? Kurt sighed. One step at a time. First, find out how to be a witch.

* * *

Kurt had been working for a couple of hours. The witch loops were rejecting him. All said the same thing, that these were dangerous times and he would need two sponsors who knew him and could swear he wasn't a demon witch. Apparently rogues had at one point posed as witches and lured others to kill them. Feeling restless and frustrated he got up from the desk to pace the room.

"Blaine says you used witchcraft to try to stab him with his knife. How did you do that?" Mike asked from the screen.  
Kurt frowned, thinking it over.

"Fear," he said after a few moments. "He was dragging me downstairs and I thought he might kill me. I felt hot energy from somewhere ball up in my chest then rush out."

"Can you just summon that up?"

"I'm not sure. When I'm scared, I don't think, I react. How can I recreate that?" Kurt rubbed at his temples.

"You've gotta try. Lives are at risk here. Yours and Sammy's, not to mention Blaine's soul. Try."

Kurt whirled around to glare at the image. "Damn it, don't you think I am? I tried with everything I had to get out of that godforsaken room last night. I don't know how or what the hell I'm doing! And you _dare_ to tell me I need to try!"

He turned his back on the screen and stormed over to the laptop. He opened a blank email and typed in Finn's address.

"What are you doing?" Mike's voice came from behind him.

"I'm sending an email to Finn," Kurt retorted.

"No."

Kurt's head snapped up and he turned to glare at Mike. "I have been kidnapped, locked in a room, and pushed around enough. Finn will be worried about me. I am going to tell him I'm okay and you're going to let me."

Mike's dark eyes narrowed. "It isn't safe to contact anyone."

"Oh, just witches, I guess?" Kurt shot back.

"We need them," Mike answered in a cool voice.

Kurt's jaw tightened with anger. "Send this email, Mike."

Mike's stare was imperturbable. "Calm down. You have to be reasonable. You can't do magic if you lose control."

Calm down? Fury worked its way up from Kurt's belly and threatened to boil over. With a shaking hand, he hit the Send button repeatedly on the keyboard. "Just go, damn it!" he snarled in frustration when it just sat there taunting him. Then suddenly it faded away. Kurt stared at the screen, unsure.

"You're wasting your time. All emails go through me. If you send that, I'll just delete it," Mike said.

But the email was gone. Wasn't it? Kurt had to think. Had he somehow bypassed Mike and sent the mail to Finn? He couldn't keep staring at the computer so he got up to pace so as not to make Mike suspicious. Could he do magic? Send email with magic? What about the warning emails he had gotten from himself about the hunters?

A female voice broke into his thoughts. "Only you can hear me."

Kurt nearly jumped out of his skin. He swung around and caught his foot on the foot of the desk, throwing his balance off and dumping him on his ass. Sprawled on the floor, he looked up at the laptop. An avatar of Elvira, Mistress of the Dark stared back at him from the screen. A voice came from the screen. "Don't let anyone know I'm talking to you, Kurt."

Kurt blinked. Was this real? Who was she? What if he had moved from hearing voices in his head to seeing characters to go with the voices?

"What happened, Kurt?" called Mike from the TV screen.

"I tripped over this stupid desk," Kurt said as he climbed to his feet, keeping his gaze on the avatar. The voice was undeniably female but had a digitized quality to it. When he moved, the eyes of the avatar followed him.

"Tell him you need a break. Take the computer where he can't see you," the voice instructed.

Kurt tried to think. It wasn't like he could grab the laptop and run. There were cameras in his room so he couldn't go there. Or could he? "I need to take a break."

"We don't have time for breaks, Kurt," Mike replied.

Kurt turned to give Mike a frosty look. "Too bad. I think I cut my leg when I fell. I'm going to go into the bathroom to clean it, then I'm going to get a glass of water. Or is that against the rules?"

Mike looked wary. "Okay. Go on then."

Kurt looked back to the laptop. How could he get Mike to let him take it? He dropped his shoulders in a show of resignation. "Look, I'll take the laptop into my room and work there. I need time to think."

Mike's eyes were hard. "Fine. Remember any emails you send will go through my computer and I'll see them."

Kurt snatched up the laptop. "Right. Big Brother's watching." He made sure to sell the performance, walking with a slight limp and going into his room. His heart was beating so hard he could hear the blood rushing in his ears. Who was it in the laptop? Was it a witch? Maybe his mind had finally snapped. He thought of the emails from himself and the phone call to the shop before the rogues showed up. He glanced up at the two cameras mounted near the ceiling. His only hope was the bathroom. He walked into the small lavatory and closed the door, turning on the water for good measure. He sat on the edge of the tub and held the computer on his lap. "Who are you?"

The avatar looked at him warningly. "No one must hear you talking to me, Kurt. They can't hear you, can they?"

Kurt shook his head. "Not so far as I know. Tell me who you are."

"I'll show you, but you have to make absolutely sure no one can see the screen."

Kurt believed Blaine when he said there were no cameras in the bathroom. But to be sure, he twisted so his back was to the wall and angled the computer so no ceiling camera could see the screen. "Okay," he said, feeling breathless with anticipation.

The picture on the screen pixelated, then rearranged themselves into a new face. One he recognized. "_Tina_? But how..."

"Shhh, don't say my name. Call me Elvira when you talk to me." The picture blurred again and sharpened back into Elvira. "I called Finn about an hour after you didn't show last night. You weren't answering your cell phone and I had a really bad feeling, especially after you told me about the guy that spooked you at your dad's funeral. Finn's been looking for you. When he told me what he found at the shop, I knew you'd been taken by witch hunters. I can't believe you're still alive. Rogues don't wait to kill."

Kurt could hear the emotion in her voice. "Blaine isn't a rogue," he said without thinking. His mind was swirling. Tina was a witch? Nothing was what it seemed. Did he actually know anything anymore? He didn't even know his best friend like he thought. "You're a witch? How are you contacting me? Mike has the computer bugged or something."

The avatar nodded, smiling gently. "I'm a witch. I knew you were a witch the first moment I met you. You didn't know, and it didn't seem like you wanted to know."

Betrayal mixed in with Kurt's relief and confusion. "But why didn't you say anything?"

"Kurt, all of us witches are in hiding these days. Our powers have been weakened by the curse and we're being slaughtered by the rogues. I figured you were safer for not knowing. I didn't think you would get a rogue's attention if you lived as a mortal." Tina paused before continuing. "Let's get you somewhere safe and you can be mad at me all you want."

Kurt swallowed. Despite everything, he felt less alone and scared. "How are you talking to me? Why didn't Mike hear you?"

"I went on the witch loops just hoping I might hear something about you. I saw your emails requesting to join."

Kurt interrupted. "My emails went through? I tried to mail Finn, but I didn't know if it worked."

"It must have. I'm projecting my avatar with magic. The hunter didn't hear me because I funneled my voice directly to your chakras so only you could hear."

Kurt felt stupid. "My what?"

"Your chakras. Seven levels of magical energy inside of you. Every witch has them."

"I have so much to learn," Kurt said, feeling his head swim.

The avatar nodded again. "I'll teach you enough to get out of there, and then you can learn all you want. Do you know where you are?"

"No. And I'm not leaving anyway." Kurt's words surprised even him, but he realized he was telling the truth.

"You have to! It's too dangerous!"

"There's a little girl here. Her name's Sammy and she's got the death mark," Kurt said, trying to make her understand. "I have to help her, Ti-Elvira."

Tina's voice cracked with regret. "You can't. It's spell magic. Witches were there when the curse happened. It broke our bond with our familiars and weakened our magic. We can't do that kind of magic without a familiar, and we can't get familiars anymore."

Kurt closed his eyes, picturing that beautiful little girl with the death mark on her forehead. He opened them and looked around. He saw his moisturizers and his hair products that Blaine had brought him. Little things, but they made him feel better. Blaine had him at his mercy, but he had gone out of his way to get him things he thought he might want. He looked back at the computer screen.

"I have to try. Blaine told me the rogues have me at the top of their kill list. Two of them caught me at the shop last night. They had already cut me once when Blaine showed up, killed them, and took me. I'm safer here. He won't kill me, at least not until I save his sister."

The Elvira picture closed its eyes and its face crumpled in grief. "We'll leave together. Go into hiding."

"No. I can't get away right now. I have to learn magic and you can help me. Please. I need you." He turned off the water, sure he had been in the bathroom far longer than was a good idea. "I can't stay in here much longer."

"Okay. I'll help."

* * *

Blaine and Deirdre both tried to read to Sammy.

"I want Wes to read to me," Sammy whined as she kicked her legs in protest.

Deirdre put her arm around her. "Wes isn't here. He can't come here, honey, and it isn't safe for you to leave."

Tears welled in Sammy's eyes and her lip trembled. "Wes doesn't like me anymore because I'm sick."

Blaine pulled out his phone and dialed Wes' number, helpless rage and frustration coursing through him at his sister's tears. When voice mail picked up, Blaine ended the call with a frustrated growl. "Shit."

"Shit," agreed Sammy with a sob.

Blaine was caught between laughing and throwing something. Instead he lifted Sammy into his lap.

"You know that's a bad word, Sammy," he said as he tenderly wiped her tears.

"You said it," Sammy argued weakly.

"I'm a grown up," Blaine said.

"So I can say it when I grow up?"

_God, yes_. Let her grow up and she can say it every damned day. "You bet. Why don't I call Wes and you leave him a message?"

"Don't wanna," Sammy whispered as she laid her head on his shoulder. She was already getting sick. His happy, bubbly, chatterbox sister was turning into a fretful sickly child.

Deirdre stood, fear showing raw on her face. "Let's put her in her bed."

Blaine followed his mom to the room he'd had set up for her and Sammy. Wes and Mike had brought a lot of Sammy's things to help her feel more comfortable and secure while Puck and Sam had worked on fixing up the room for Kurt. But none of the preparations mattered if they didn't figure out how to remove the death curse.

By the time he laid her in the bed, Sammy was fast asleep. Deirdre tucked Tigger in next to her and gently stroked her hair. Blaine gave them both a last long look, then stalked into his bedroom, through the closet and downstairs.

The witch had better be making some progress. He had fed Mike some cock and bull story about a witch suddenly appearing on the laptop and agreeing to help him. Mike said the other witch was using magic to hide behind an avatar and he couldn't track her. They didn't know where the witch calling herself Elvira was or why she popped up to talk to Kurt when all the witch loops had rejected him. She was a witch if she was using magic, but what if it was a demon witch trying to cause trouble?

As he stepped off the last step and into the hallway, he heard Kurt say excitedly, "I can feel it! It's opening!"

What was he talking about? Blaine hurried down the short hall and turned into Kurt's room. Kurt was sitting cross legged on the cold tile floor with his hands folded in his lap and staring at an orange candle that flickered gently with his slow and even breathing. An empty bowl was next to Kurt's knee.

Confused, Blaine asked, "Feel what opening?"

"Blaine!" Kurt yelped in surprise, jerking and throwing his hands up. A thin stream of water flew from his hands and hit Blaine in the chest.

Blaine looked down at his now soaked shirt in astonishment. "What the hell?"

Kurt's blue eyes lit up and sparkled with green and gold highlights. "Water! I did it! It's water, I did water! The second chakra!" His face sobered. "Um, you're kind of wet. I was trying to get the water into the bowl."

Blaine wondered if he'd done it on purpose, so he leaned against the doorframe and crossed one ankle over the other, watching Kurt and waiting to see what happened.

Kurt raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"

"Oh, nothing, just waiting to see if you get drenched with witch karma," Blaine replied airily, gaze steady.

Kurt leapt to his feet and waved a hand. "Oh, please, you big baby, it's just a little water. You weren't _harmed_."

"That's too bad," Blaine said, eyeing the tight white t-shirt Kurt wore.

He definitely wouldn't mind seeing it wet and clinging to his skin. A sudden flash of need ran through his veins, making him hot. He inhaled slowly and caught the sweet vanilla scent of Kurt, which only intensified his need. It _had_ to be because he had touched his blood.

Kurt narrowed his eyes at him. "The third chakra is fire."

Blaine quickly reined in his thoughts. He was there to check progress, after all. He pulled off his wet shirt and used it to wipe his chest.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked him, his voice a little higher pitched than normal.

"Drying off." _Or cooling off_, as the case may be.

He was trying to cool off by running the cool wet cloth over his overheated skin. But the witch didn't need to know that. He tossed his shirt onto Kurt's bed, then turned back to him.

"This Elvira person is teaching you something then?" he asked.

Kurt's face dimmed. "Yes. But it's going to be more complicated than I thought to heal Sammy. The curse affected witches too, and we can't do spell magic."

Blaine forgot his lust as suspicion rose in him. What was Elvira telling him? "You _will_ do this, Kurt."

"I'm trying!" Kurt protested. "But I have to learn low magic first, magic in my first four chakras. Then I will try to figure out high magic using the last three chakras..."

"Wait," Blaine interrupted. "Explain chakras." He knew many things about witches. His dad had been sure to teach him how to cut them to disconnect them from their powers, for example. But he knew nothing of where exactly, other than the earth, their magic came from.

Kurt was cleaning up his work area. "A witch has seven chakras. The first is at the base of the spine, called the earth chakra. It's red and connects us with the earth. That's why I was sitting on the floor, to try to be more connected to the earth and try to access my second chakra." He blew out the candle before putting it on the counter.

Blaine noticed the open laptop with its screensaver on the screen. Was Elvira behind that watching and listening to them? He looked back at Kurt. "And water is the second chakra."

Kurt nodded. "It's here." He laid a hand flat on his pelvis.

Blaine stared at Kurt's palm resting on the zipper of his jeans, wanting nothing more than to move his hand, unzip those snug jeans, and lay his own hand on that second chakra. "Go on," he grunted, forcing himself to look back up at Kurt's face.

"I was just feeling that chakra open when you walked in," Kurt explained.

_Fucking hell_. Blaine tried to push that thought out of his mind.

"By opening the chakras, I have access to the power," Kurt continued. "The fire chakra is third. It's yellow and located here." He ran his hand up his stomach to roughly where his solar plexus was. "The fourth chakra is air. It's green." He raised both hands to cover his chest. "Once I can open those chakras I can pull the power of the elements through them. With practice, I will learn to control the magic. See?"

Blaine was trying hard _not_ to see. Trying not to visualize each spot on Kurt's body where a chakra was. Trying not to imagine tracing each of those places with his fingers –or better yet, his tongue. _Focus, damn it!_ "But those won't help take the curse off Sammy?"

Kurt shook his head. "No. That takes high magic. Spell magic comes through the higher chakras. Chakra five is blue. Here." He put his hand on his throat. "Communication. Where we bring elemental and spell magic together. Plus we need a familiar, and that's a problem."

"Why?"

Kurt sighed quietly. "We can't get familiars. The curse broke our bond with our familiars."

Blaine closed his eyes briefly in frustration. Bad news and more bad news. "You can't do the spell without a familiar?" Hunters knew witches had been weakened, but not specific details. They weren't exactly on the level of exchanging information.

Kurt sat on one of the stools by the counter. He raised his eyes to meet Blaine's gaze. "I'm going to try. I need to get in control of at least six of my chakras. The sixth one is here," he said, touching his forehead, "and it's the third eye. The color is indigo and that's where I'll connect with the Ancestors to ask them to help me. It seems that since the curse no one's connected with the Ancestors. The final chakra, the seventh, is violet and on the top of the head. It's knowledge and spiritual connection."

Blaine found himself impressed, assuming what Kurt was saying was true. "So the problem is that you have to learn the chakras and how to control the powers, then find a way to get a familiar to be able to do a spell, right?"

"As far as I can tell," replied Kurt. "Elvira tells me there's much more to learn, but this is where I have to start."

After a pregnant pause, Blaine asked, "Kurt, who is Elvira?"

Kurt's eyes fell to Blaine's chest. "I don't know. She just appeared."

Blaine had a feeling Kurt wasn't telling him the truth. "Then how do you know you can trust her?" Kurt looked down and tried to twist his stool away. Blaine moved quickly to the stool, forcing his legs apart to stand between them and trapping him there.

"Look at me. At my eyes, not my chest," Blaine said.

Kurt's witch shimmer darkened to a silvery rose blush. When Blaine saw that, he knew Kurt was physically reacting to him. But was he lying, too? Keeping Elvira's identity a secret?

"Kurt."

Kurt looked up at him quickly. "Back off, Blaine. I'm doing all I can."

Was he? Or was he trying to gain his powers to escape? The idea sprouted deep in Blaine's belly. _No. His witch. His._ The blood curse was burning, trying to take over and bring out the animal in him. He fought it down, keeping his hands clenched into fists at his sides and concentrating on his breathing. As the moment stretched out, Kurt grew tense and agitated. Like a tidal wave, the spicy scent of power slammed into Blaine, igniting the burn under his skin and cramping in his gut. His brain fogged over. He could take what he wanted from Kurt; his knife was in its holster in the small of his back...

The sound of rushing water exploded in the room, shocking his bloodlust back down to a simmer. Kurt jerked back, nearly falling off the stool. Blaine grabbed him and pulled him to his chest, his instinct now to protect and shield him. Looking into the bathroom, he could see the faucet at the sink, as well as the shower, running full blast. When he turned his head, the sink in the bar counter had turned on, too.

No threat to Kurt. Had he sensed his bloodlust rising? Blaine eased Kurt back to the stool and looked at him, noticing his face was flushed. "Your power turned on the water?"

"I felt that chakra open, so I guess I did. It wasn't a conscious decision." Kurt frowned at Blaine. "You made me nervous."

_Shit_. He'd scared Kurt. Blaine tried to reassure himself that he would have controlled himself, that he wouldn't have actually _hurt_ Kurt. Now that he was touching him, bloodlust had faded and sexual lust was pounding through him along with an almost suffocating need to protect. He held Kurt with one hand behind his head and the other on his shoulder. He looked at the running water. "Can you turn it off with witchcraft?"

Kurt turned his head and looked at the streaming faucet nearest to them. It shut off.

Blaine felt a jolt run through him. Was it the curse reacting to Kurt's powers?

"I did it!" Kurt looked back up at Blaine, laughing triumphantly.

Blaine focused on Kurt's face, on his excitement, his joy in discovering what he was capable of and his success. He focused on the masculine beauty he wanted to taste. Kurt was Blaine's opposite, of what he was and what he could become. Blaine longed to have more of it, more of _Kurt_. He slowly lowered his head to touch his lips to Kurt's.

Kurt exhaled into Blaine's mouth and it fired hot through his blood. _Yes_. That was what he wanted, what he _needed_; Kurt's very breath. Blaine pressed harder until Kurt opened his mouth wider, Kurt's entire body leaning into him and his skin growing hotter until the need and desire flowed off him like the water he could control with his power.

Blaine wanted to drown in it, to drown in _Kurt_. He plunged his tongue into Kurt's mouth, wanting to taste him down to all seven chakras. The feel of Kurt's hands caressing his arms and chest inflamed him, nearly driving him insane. He was hard to the point that he didn't think he could pull back, and he didn't want to. When Kurt's hand slid over his shoulder to touch his tattoo, Blaine growled and slid his hands under Kurt's ass to lift him up against him, grinding their hard cocks together.

"Get away from him!" demanded a digitalized voice that blasted throughout the room.

Blaine ripped his mouth away from Kurt's, his entire body on protective alert to find and destroy anything that dared interrupt them, or threaten Kurt.

The screensaver was no longer on the laptop. Instead Elvira stared balefully at him from the screen.

"Elvira," he growled.

Damn the computer, and damn the witch behind the picture. His head was pounding with lust and his longing for Kurt was so intense he burned with it. Every inch of his skin craved him. Even his hawk tattoo felt tight and hot in a way it hadn't since he'd gone under Wes' needle.

"Let go of me," Kurt said softly. When Blaine let him go, he wrapped his arms around himself and moved back on the stool.

"Yes, I'm Elvira. Get a hold of yourself, hunter. If you kill Kurt, your sister will die," spat the avatar.

Blaine nearly shook his head. He had wanted to strip Kurt naked and possess him, not kill him. But for a moment, before the water came on and he actually touched him, he had nearly been swept up in bloodlust. He changed the subject. "Why are you hiding? How do I know you aren't tricking Kurt? Or if you're a demon witch?"

The avatar scoffed, "You of all people should know that I'm forced to hide because of rogue hunters. I'm helping Kurt. I'm not the one who kidnapped him."

Kurt met Blaine's gaze levelly. "The witch loops won't help me. Elvira is teaching me what I need to know."

"Kurt wasn't raised as a witch. He is having to learn magic from the beginning, things witches are normally taught from childhood. We haven't been able to remove a death mark in years, either. You are demanding he do the impossible," Elvira added.

Blaine felt a sinking sensation in his gut. If that was true, he would have no other option but to find the demon witch and kill her. "I won't let Sammy die."

Elvira's face and voice softened a bit. "Then let Kurt work, let him learn. Maybe we will find out a way to achieve the impossible."

Blaine remembered all Kurt had told him of chakras, spell magic and elemental magic. He hadn't known to what extent the witches had been damaged by the curse. "None of you can talk to your Ancestors?" Just like the hunters could no longer reach The Slayer? For hunters it had been the hawks that talked directly to The Slayer. He had the hawk tattoo now, but he didn't know what it meant, especially since he still craved witch blood because of the curse.

Elvira spoke, cutting into his thoughts. "No. And we need the Ancestors for spell magic."

Kurt leaned towards the computer. "What are the Ancestors?"

"Witches evolved from special mortals who began to reincarnate when they died. Each lifetime, they gained in power and knowledge. In our death cycle we go to Gort Na Gréine to rest, review, and go to the next life cycle. But some souls grew so evolved that they no longer wished to reincarnate. They stayed in Gort Na Gréine as spirit guides. They assist in learning and in spell magic. When the curse happened, earth witches broke through the demon witch shield and entered the grove with the witch hunters. Witches souls were torn from them, just like the hunters. And the connection with our familiars and the Ancestors was severed," Elvira explained.

Kurt nibbled his lower lip and looked as though he were deep in thought. "What?" Blaine asked him.

Kurt looked closely at the screen. "So before the curse, what was communication with the Ancestors like? Was it just like having a normal conversation? With any witch?"

"Most witches have some form of communication with the Ancestors when they open the sixth chakra, the third eye. They may hear voices, or receive a sign. But some witches, a very few..." Elvira's voice trailed off as her eyes narrowed.

"A few witches what?" Kurt asked as he concentrated on the screen.

"Can hear Ancestor voices without opening chakras. They may get a message in their dreams or even sometimes when they're awake."

Kurt stared at the screen unblinkingly. "Like email maybe?" His hands started fiddling with the hem of his t-shirt and his breathing picked up slightly.

Blaine's tension grew with Kurt's agitation. "What do you mean?"

Kurt turned to him. "Do you remember me telling you about the man who scared me at the funeral, and you said it was your dad? And he's a rogue hunter?" When Blaine nodded, Kurt continued, "That night I got an email warning me that hunters had found me. As if that wasn't strange enough, it came from my own account, as though I'd sent it to myself. But how could I have done so? I didn't know I was a witch, didn't know anything about hunters or rogues. And before I got attacked at the shop, I got another email, plus a phone call with a computerized voice telling me to run. And when I got outside, those rogues were there."

Blaine's tattoo was warm enough that he could feel the outline of the hawk. "You didn't send the emails to yourself, so you think the Ancestors did?"

Kurt's gaze moved back and forth between Blaine and Elvira and then settled back on Blaine. "I hear voices. I always have. When I was really young, I used to talk to them. But I stopped, and since then, I only hear a constant murmur. And a word or two once in a great while." He frowned down at the granite countertop and fiddled with a candle. "But why? Why would they talk to me? I was raised as a mortal, I didn't know I was a witch."

Elvira said, "Maybe the fact that you were raised in a mortal household meant you needed the Ancestors more than the rest of us. _Or_," she emphasized when it appeared Kurt was about to say something, "maybe you are special somehow. Maybe something about you made it possible for them to reach you."

Blaine stayed focused on his purpose. Sammy. "Then Kurt could be the witch that can heal Sammy."

Elvira's eyes shifted to him. "This is even bigger than just one child's life, hunter. Kurt could be the breakthrough we need to reach our Ancestors."

"Both of you stop it," Kurt said emphatically. "We'll find a way. This is a child's life we are talking about." He crossed over to a drawer and pulled out two yellow candles and a candleholder.

"What's that for?" Blaine asked as he watched him.

"Fire, for my third chakra. I meditate on a candle that's the same color of the chakra to help me connect and open it." Kurt put one candle into the holder and took the orange candle out of the other holder to replace it with the second yellow candle. He lit one candle with a match and left the other unlit. He carried both candles over to where he had been earlier and placed them side by side on the tile floor, then dropped down gracefully to sit with his legs crossed, crossing his hands in his lap. His back was to Blaine.

The room was utterly quiet except for the low hum of the laptop. Blaine leaned against the counter to watch. Kurt sat with his back straight. Blaine's eyes followed the line of his spine down to his gently rounded ass. He could see his back expand with each breath he took. He realized that he was breathing with Kurt, keeping rhythm with him on each breath he took. He couldn't stop, couldn't look away. Time was meaningless and he had no idea how long he stood there, fixated on Kurt and breathing with him.

Then suddenly he felt it. A low sizzle started deep in his belly followed by an odd sensation, like a ripple of feathers in the wind under his skin. It was so quick he couldn't be sure of exactly what it was. He could feel the low hum of the curse and its cramping need trying to rise, but it was overshadowed by a deep desire to touch Kurt. To feel his power as he stripped him bare and laid him on the tile floor, to sink into him deep enough to feel each chakra.

There was a bright flare as the second candle lit, reaching at least four inches in height before it settled to a smaller steady flame. Blaine felt sweat break out on his brow and his back. Blood ran hotly through him and gathered in his cock, engorging it to incredible hardness.

Kurt had succeeded in opening his fire chakra, but why did Blaine feel it? Why was the bloodlust getting lost under a tide of powerful sexual lust? What was happening? What was Kurt doing to him?

* * *

Blaine was restless and edgy. He wanted to fight, wanted to kill. The pulsing lights of the club, the throbbing beat of the music, and the fire flickering in the fire pits suited his deadly mood.

He needed sex to take the edge off. But all he could think of was Kurt. It had been strangely hard leaving the house tonight, knowing he was down on the bottom floor. He had felt a pull in his gut to turn back, and every mile he drove felt as though he had run it instead. The skin on his thumb that had touched Kurt's blood burned. Where Kurt's hand had stroked his tattoo felt sensitive and empty, almost as though it craved more. The darker part of him wanted to feel the hot spill of Kurt's blood to cool the burning ache under his skin.

It had to be the curse fucking with his mind. He needed to get laid. He needed to help Kurt remove the curse from Sammy so he could send him away.

He also needed to find out who the demon witch was, just in case Kurt wasn't able to remove the curse. Or maybe he could beat the information out of his dad. The idea cheered him slightly.

Sam moved up next to him quietly and offered him a cold beer. "There's a couple of sets of rogues scouting the place. They're twitchy as hell, too."

Blaine narrowed his gaze on them. There were two by one of the fire pits, whispering to each other like schoolgirls and glancing around nervously. Another set was at the bar doing the same thing.

Sam took a swallow of his own beer. "Your hawk tat made them nervous enough. But now you've killed several rogues to protect a witch. They think you're the enemy."

Blaine snorted in derision. "They're following orders, they don't _think_ anything. Left to their own devices, they would just slaughter witches where they found them and leave the mess where it was. The Junto has them organized now. When a witch is murdered the body disappears forever."

"Their number's growing, too. More hunters are going rogue and at a faster pace. Your hawk tattoo marks you as a leader of Slayer Hunters. To them, you're a real threat. I think we need to figure out exactly why," Sam said.

Blaine turned to look at his friend. "Meaning?"

"Meaning the direct threat to you started when word of your tattoo got out. It means something. Maybe we need to ask the witches. Maybe it's time we figured out a way to work with them. We would have to avoid direct contact, like Skype or something. Although, you've been directly around a witch now and not been affected," Sam answered, then drained his beer.

Blaine took several swallows of his own beer, then huffed out a humorless laugh. "I'm affected every damn second of every damn day." Kurt was in him and he didn't know if he would ever break free. One touch of his blood, just one touch, and it was as though they had formed a connection of some sort. Needing to change the subject, he nodded towards the rogues and said, "You can bet my dad's behind this. He has guards at his house, like he's some sort of fucking king."

Sam pursed his lips thoughtfully. "He needs you to help him keep his throne. You're good at planning and good at killing."

Blaine knew that was the truth. His dad had started trying to turn him rogue when he was fourteen. And when that failed, his dad had seduced his mom in order to try to have another child, but it had been a girl. Sammy. Now Damian was back to trying to get Blaine to turn and join him in killing witches and eventually ruling the rogues. It would never end. First he had to save Sammy. Then...he didn't know what. His tattoo warming caught his attention. What was that about? A reminder? Maybe it was just his imagination. Or had Kurt done something to him?

He drained his beer and handed the empty bottle to Sam. "Keep an eye on the rogues." He headed for the dance floor, eyes on a tall guy with dark hair. He needed to get relief, then maybe he could concentrate enough to think. A long buried memory bubbled up, one of his dad dragging his teenaged self into an abandoned building and seeing that witch tied down, terrified and already bleeding from multiple cuts. He had been horrified, and then shocked when bloodlust blasted through him, making him want dark and terrible things. He would never forget the screams of the witch as his father cut her. Or his father taking his hand and forcing it onto a bleeding wound...

"Blaine Anderson."

A sharp male voice cut through the memory. He turned and sized up the man standing there. He was mortal, over six feet tall, confident and tightly muscled. Even in the pulsing lights Blaine could see the intensity in his dark eyes. "Yeah?" he asked coolly.

The man's jaw tightened. "I want to see Kurt. He swears he's fine, but I want to see him, see for myself."

Blaine felt jealous rage swirled around to chomp into his gut. He knew the man was a mortal, so he didn't want Kurt's blood. Did Kurt have a boyfriend? The idea of this man touching Kurt had Blaine clenching his fists to keep from grabbing his knife and killing the man on the spot. "Who are you?" he spat out harshly.

The man didn't flinch or back down. "Finn Hudson. Kurt's my stepbrother."

Finn spoke matter-of-factly and just loud enough to be heard over the music. That he had found Blaine and connected him to Kurt meant one thing; Kurt had somehow contacted him. Clever. Or maybe he had gotten Elvira to do it.

But now this was a problem. Blaine had to get rid of Finn and keep him out of the way. Fixing his eyes on Finn, he mentally reached through the optic nerves to alter his short term memory. "Kurt went on a business trip. He'll be back in a few weeks. Neither of you have ever heard of me."

Finn glared at him and stepped closer. "Cut the bullshit. I-"

A sudden scream tore through the club. Blaine whipped around, knife in his hand, and searched the place. He saw Finn held a gun in his hand. Not fast enough to be a threat to a hunter, but pretty damn fast for a human. Another scream came from the dance floor. Blaine saw that two of the rogues had each grabbed a woman and held them with their blades at their throats. At the fire pit, two more stood with their blades to female throats.

Blaine didn't have to look to know his men were on the move. He was furious that the rogues were using his patrons to make this stand. They always deemed women easy pickings. The music came to a halt and the club was silent except for the sobbing of the terrified women.

A fifth rogue slid out of the dark shadows. Recognition hit Blaine like a fist to the gut. _Sebastian_.

Sebastian stared at Blaine and ordered, "Kill the first one."

"Nooooooo..." the piercing scream turned into a wet gurgle. Around the club, a few women fainted as the rest of the captive women whimpered in fear.

Rage coursed through Blaine. What had happened to the boy who had loved to play the hero? Now he was capable of killing an innocent woman to make a point.

And in _his_ club.

Fuck it. Blaine hated that it had come to this, but he wouldn't let anyone, not his father and not a boyhood friend, murder in cold blood. His body tightened as Sebastian strode towards him.

Smug satisfaction rolled off Sebastian in waves, making his face ugly. He reveled in the moment, enjoying his perceived power. He stared at Blaine for a moment before saying, "I want the wi-"

Before he could finish his sentence, Blaine threw his knife, burying the blade deep in the center of Sebastian's heart. Because of their ability to heal quickly, the surest way to kill a hunter was a direct hit to the heart. Before Sebastian's body hit the floor, Blaine had already yanked his blade free.

This is what they'd become. He had just killed a man he had once called a friend, one he had once secretly hoped could be more. Hot with rage, he looked around to assess the situation. The other rogues were just as dead as Sebastian. Puck, Sam and Mike were all cleaning blood off their knives. Wes was kneeling by the woman who had been cut. He looked up at Blaine, his brown eyes hard. "Dead."

_Fucking assholes._ The woman's shiny pink top was soaked with blood, her blue eyes staring blankly. She had died as a message to him.

A low rumble started as club patrons started to talk. Everyone had seen it. Blaine had to get the situation under control. His men gathered around him, awaiting his orders.

"Sam, you're the best at shifting memories. Shift them to think what they saw was a jealous boyfriend cutting her throat. Mike, talk to the hunters. Get them to cooperate or tell them to piss off. Sam, as soon as Puck gets rid of the dead rogues, call the cops." He didn't look at Sebastian's body. He had no time for regret or anything else as he dealt with the situation.

"Where do you want them?" Puck asked.

Blaine gave him a mirthless grin. "Dump them in front of my dad's house."

Sebastian had been his dad's man, so Damian was probably behind the whole stunt. The rogues could clean up their own mess. And it was a message from him. Don't fuck with him or his.

"Got it," Puck grinned back and set to work.

"What have you done with Kurt? Where is he?"

Shit, the stepbrother. Blaine had forgotten about Finn. He stood loose but alert, gun in his hand, eyes hard and determined. No sign or any fear, shock or horror. This was no average mortal.

Wes stood behind Finn. "B, what do you want done with him?"

Blaine considered his options. "What did Kurt tell you?"

Finn returned his gaze even and steadily. "He thinks he's a witch."

Blaine nodded once. "He is, and he's in danger. He's under my protection and safe where I have him."

Finn's eyes narrowed. 'I have no reason to believe you. If he's in danger, I'll protect him."

Blaine figured he either had to kill Finn or tell him the truth. "He'll be dead within an hour if I let him go." He gestured to the bodies of the dead rogues being dragged out. "They came here to find Kurt."

Finn holstered his gun, folded his arms and planted his feet. "I don't leave until I see Kurt and talk to him."

And the problems just kept on coming.

* * *

**TBC**

**ittlebitz . tumblr . com**


	5. Time Waits For No One

**Title:** Hot Under My Skin

**Author:** Ittlebitz

**Pairing:** Kurt/Blaine

**Rating:** NC-17 over all, R this chapter

**Warnings for this chapter: **Mild sexual content, language, description of past abuse, dark effects of a curse

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. I don't own Glee or any of its characters. I do own a copy of the book Blood Magic.

**Author's Note: **Thank you so much to my bestie, Sam, for beta-ing this humongous chapter on short time after being off the grid for the weekend!

* * *

**Death Mark Day 5**

"How'd you do it?"

Kurt jerked awake. The old panic engulfed him and his heart rate sped up as though he were running. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean..."

"You did, though," Blaine's voice penetrated the panicked fog in Kurt's brain.

"Blaine?" Kurt asked as his mind tried to clear itself. He quickly realized that it wasn't his grandfather dragging him out of bed for some new perceived evil. Everything came back to him and self righteous anger drove away his childhood fears. "What are you bellowing about?"

"Who's bellowing?" Blaine asked, lifting one brow sardonically, and then without waiting for an answer continued on. "Your brother came to the club tonight."

"My brother? Finn? What club are you talking about?" Despite having caught up on the where and who, Kurt was still trying to orient himself. He had only been asleep for a short time, having worked deep into the night to open all four of his lower chakras. He had succeeded, but control was another matter entirely. He had set off the fire alarm twice, accidentally spawned a mini tornado in his room, and melted some crystals trying to move them.

When Blaine's words finally sunk in, Kurt threw back the covers and jumped out of the bed. "Finn? He's here?"

Blaine grabbed his arm. "No, not here. At my club. How did you contact him?"

Kurt studied Blaine for a moment. He actually looked tired. His curls were messy and damp with sweat. There were dark shadows under his eyes. His hold on his arm was gentle even though his face was stern. "I used my powers to send him an email."

Blaine sighed. "You're going to get him killed."

Kurt stiffened and his eyes hardened into a crystal glare.

"What did you do to him?" he said in a low, deadly tone. His first chakra opened with a swooping sensation, followed by the second in such quick succession that he was nearly dizzy with it. The lights flickered on and off while drawers shook, causing the things inside them to clatter noisily.

Blaine glanced around quickly and looked back at Kurt.

"Witch karma," he warned.

"I could give a rat's ass!" Kurt snarled. "If you killed Finn-"

Blaine cut him off. "He's fine. I didn't touch him. But he was at the club when some rogues showed up looking for you and decided to take hostages. They wanted me to trade you for the four women whose throats they were holding their knives to."

Kurt felt the room tilt and spin. His powers ran up and down his spine like an electric current. He remembered the terror of facing the two rogues at the shop, remembered the hot stinging flash of the sharp knife cutting into his skin while one whispered about wanting his blood. He was exhausted and his normally calm and rational mind jumped to wild conclusions. Fury washed over him in a hot tide and he tried to snatch his arm out of Blaine's grasp. "You're trading me to rogues? You dragged me out of bed to trade me?"

Blaine let go of his arm. "You know better than that. We killed the rogues. But you have to tell your brother to back off. If the rogues figure out who he is and what he means to you, do you have any clue what they'll do to him? Just to get to you?"

Kurt felt his anger begin to deflate slightly. If Blaine was telling the truth, Finn could get killed. "What club are you talking about?"

"Scandals," said Blaine. "It's my nightclub; mostly hunters hang out there."

Blaine walked over to his workstation and grabbed the laptop.

"Open it," he demanded as he handed it to Kurt.

Kurt swallowed back a sarcastic retort and did as he was told. He sat down and powered it on. Only seconds later, a video feed of a nightclub began to play. The place seemed dark and hellish–not the kind of place Kurt would want to have anything to do with. The screen was split with one side showing Blaine and Finn talking on one side while the other showed two men, obviously rogues, each grab a woman and hold knives to their throats. Kurt watched, horrified, as a man in a trench coat strode forward out of the shadows and gave the order to kill. He felt sick as one of the rogues pulled his blade across his hostage's throat and her blood gushed out thick and red onto the dance floor.

Kurt slapped a hand over his mouth.

"You let them kill her!" he accused Blaine.

"Keep watching," Blaine answered in a rough growl.

Kurt didn't want to. Who were these monsters? His eyes involuntarily returned to the screen as the man in the trench coat said, "I want the wi-"

He never finished the sentence. Blaine threw his knife in a movement so fast Kurt could barely see it. The man crumpled as death took him. Kurt looked up at Blaine. "You killed him?"

"Yes," Blaine replied.

Kurt rubbed his arms as gooseflesh rose up to prickle his skin. He watched the rest of the scene play out, including Finn leaving unharmed. His worry for his brother satisfied, he allowed himself to think of Blaine's face when he killed the man in the coat. It had been hard and determined, yet there had been a flicker of something that resembled regret.

"Did you know him?"

"Yes."

Kurt could hear the pained grief Blaine was trying to repress.

"Who was he?" he asked as he looked up, feeling a little as though he was drowning in the gold of Blaine's eyes.

Blaine clenched his fists. "We were best friends when we were kids. Now I killed him. To protect you."

Kurt could feel the turmoil in Blaine. He had hated what he had to do, but he'd done it. And he was still dealing with his own craving for witch blood. For _his_ blood. "Why are they harassing you?"

"Their goal is to wipe out witches completely. The Junto will do what it takes to achieve it. They know I'm protecting you, and they want us both dead." Blaine swallowed heavily. "We're running out of time."

Kurt felt his shoulders slump slightly. He'd been trying so _hard_!

"It's only been three days."

"We've got five days to spell the curse off Sammy before the waxing gibbous moon. Once that moon passes, the only hope she has is killing the demon witch before the full moon. Already she's tired, whiny, and feverish." Blaine turned and walked to the door, then turned back. "I don't need Finn getting in my way, Kurt."

Kurt could feel the tension in Blaine winding tighter. When he'd first been awakened, his instinctual fear had caused him to miss how close to the edge Blaine was. But he could see it now. Was killing his friend the last straw? Would he give in to the curse and kill him? "I'm trying, really I am! But five days isn't much time! I'm doing the best I can and learning as fast as I can, I swear." His mind was racing. How could he help Sammy in five days?

Blaine reached behind him. His knife holster was back there. Adrenaline exploded inside Kurt as the voices in his head screamed one word; _Run!_

Kurt jumped up from the bed, ignoring the crash of the laptop to the floor and racing for the open door. His head replayed the video he had watched of the woman's throat getting cut. He has to get away from Blaine and his knife. His powers crackled, but he was afraid of hurting himself with witch karma and making it easier for Blaine to get him. The door was only another step away.

Suddenly, he slammed hard into a rock solid chest. Bouncing back from the impact, he nearly fell, but two hands grabbed his arms and kept him on his feet. He could feel someone touching him, but no one was there.

Blaine suddenly materialized in front of him.

"Stop. Fucking hell, _stop_!" Blaine yelled. He was panting and his entire body was vibrating as though he couldn't hold all the force bubbling up inside him.

"Let me go!" Kurt demanded. He was not about to stand there meekly while Blaine killed him. His powers rushed out in a whoosh, exploding the lights in the hallway.

Blaine reacted in a blur, grabbing Kurt and easing him against the wall before slamming his body up behind him. Kurt barely registered the wall cold against him as his senses filled with the warmth of Blaine pressed against him to protect him. Shock rippled through him as he had the sense of powerful wings wrapping around him as though his hawk was protecting him, as well as the man.

But that was crazy, this time Blaine _was_ the threat. "I swear to you, I won't let you kill me without hurting you, too," Kurt vowed. As far as threats went, it was a rather ridiculous one. Blaine had him immobile against the wall. And anything he did to Blaine would hurt him three times worse.

"Won't...hurt...you," Blaine panted out, each word taking tremendous effort.

Kurt shivered, feeling Blaine's hot breath against his skin. "You were reaching for your knife!"

"No. Cell phone." Blaine's voice was raspy.

"What?" Kurt was confused. And _damn it_, he couldn't move. Blaine had him pinned completely. He could see one of Blaine's hands against the wall, fingers curled in and turning the knuckles white.

"Cell phone. For you," Blaine gritted out, and then groaned as if in pain. He pressed his entire body against Kurt. The heat of his body reached for Kurt and surrounded him. Kurt could feel Blaine's thick erection pressed against him. The sensation of Blaine's earlier agitation was replaced with something else, something intimate and sensual.

"You're giving me a cell phone?" Kurt asked, trying to think straight. He wondered if he was crazy or if his mind had finally snapped under all the stress he had been enduring the last few days.

"Yes," Blaine whispered.

Kurt was reeling.

"I need you to move back and give me some space," he managed to croak, mind numbed by the proximity and sensual press of Blaine's hard body.

Once Blaine had backed away, giving him space for his mind to clear, Kurt turned in the small space to face him and saw the iPhone in Blaine's hand. He hadn't been lying.

"What the hell _was_ that?" Kurt exclaimed, anger pushing through his unbidden arousal.

Blaine was still breathing hard. "You ran from me. I told you, running brings out the predator." He held out the phone. "I told Finn I'd have you call him. Let him know you're safe. You can talk all you want, but tell him to ease up and stay out of the way."

Kurt took the phone, his fingers brushing Blaine's. Was he safe? Why had he imagined his hawk's wings around him?

"I thought you were going for your knife," he said, wrapping his arms around himself and hating the uncertainty and tension that left him confused and frustrated.

"When I catch your smell, the scent of your power, I burn for your blood. But then I touch you and it becomes something else altogether... a burning need to protect you. You used your powers to blow those lights. Don't you get it? You'd have been cut three times worse than anything I might have gotten, I can't let you get hurt like that," Blaine said as he continued to breathe in heavy rasps.

Kurt lifted his chin defiantly. "I will _always_ fight back."

Blaine pinned him with his eyes. "I've fought this curse since I was fifteen, Kurt. I live by self control every day. I won't slip that easily, won't cut you. But when you run, my hunter instincts react and I'm on you before I can even think."

Kurt ran his eyes over Blaine, down the muscled chest and flat stomach to where his erection strained against the fabric of his jeans. _That_ reaction was about sex, not his blood. He jerked his head to the side, feeling confused as his face flushed hot.

"Look at me," Blaine said as he caught Kurt's arm.

Chiding himself to have courage, Kurt raised his eyes to Blaine's.

"What?"

Blaine's other hand reached out to caress Kurt's face lightly.

"I can smell your desire."

Kurt's heart gave a hard thump in his chest.

"You can not."

Blaine's voice dropped, deeper and sexy.

"Baby, your scent tells me everything about you. What shampoo you use, lotion and moisturizer, fabric softener on your clothes. What I can't get the scent of is any sign of sex on you in a long time. Just need."

Kurt tightened his grip on the phone before tossing it on the rumpled bed.

"Stop it," he hissed.

Blaine pulled him closer. "Stop what?"

Kurt jerked himself out of Blaine's hold.

"It was bad enough with mortal men. They didn't know what I was, but during sex they sensed something, or maybe they felt something. I don't know, but it scared them. It made me feel like a freak. That was bad enough. But it would be worse with you. You know what I am and you..." he trailed off and turned away.

"I what?" Blaine prompted softly.

Kurt whirled around to glare at him.

"You hate what I am...and I would feel it. Emotions that release when a man comes-" He broke off and closed his eyes at the sheer weight of it. He didn't want to feel that. Not from Blaine. "I'd feel it," he whispered.

He would not let himself open sexually to a man who hated what he was, hated that his blood and power could forever ruin him. Every time he had tried for a relationship, then felt the rejection after sex, a small part of him had died off. Hope; the hope that someone out there would love him and accept him for who he was. He couldn't risk it. It would destroy him.

Blaine's face softened and for a brief moment Kurt was positive he saw the flutter of wings in his hazel eyes.

"I don't hate you, Kurt. I don't hate what you are."

Kurt frowned at Blaine, unsure how to take this sudden change.

"You do," he stated emphatically.

Yet Blaine's warmth was drawing him closer –closer to something he couldn't put a name to but wanted so very badly. It felt like something that, if he could just grasp it, he could somehow feel whole. He respected Blaine's fight against the curse and his love for his family, but he didn't want to feel this. It scared the _hell_ out of him.

Blaine shook his head, keeping his eyes on Kurt's.

"Not you. Never you," he said. "I hate the curse inside of me. And I hate those fucking cowards that hurt you. Do you know why they ran scared away from you?"

"Because they somehow sensed the witch in me," Kurt whispered his voice cracking. His grandfather had always said he was evil, that he brought bad things, like his dad's heart troubles.

"They sensed your power. They know at some instinctive level that you are so much more powerful than them. Witches have always scared mortal men," Blaine said with a scoff.

He had Kurt's attention.

"But not you?" Kurt asked.

Blaine's mouth tilted at the corner in a small half smile. "I'm not afraid of you. I'm afraid of losing control of the curse that's in me, but I'm not scared of you. I look at you and right now I see your witch shimmer making your skin glisten silver with sparks of gold throughout. It doesn't frighten me; it makes me want to touch you all the way down to the very depths of your powers."

Kurt's eyes widened slightly. _Was that true? What if sex with Blaine was different? What if he didn't find it abnormal or wrongfully strange to want wild, passionate sex with nothing held back? To need him so deeply in so many ways that he was overwhelmed?_

Blaine ran his hands lightly up and down Kurt's arms, his light touch raising gooseflesh.

"It's no different for me," he confessed, "when I have sex with mortal men I have to hold back. I have to hide what I am."

Kurt felt the sheer truth in what Blaine was saying. Blaine's emotional weight was even heavier than his own. The hot touch of Blaine's hands on his skin made it more bearable, made him feel strong and more sure. The scent of sandalwood rushed through his senses and his heart thudded in his chest, making him breathless. Desire raced through him like wildfire, heating his skin and pooling low in his groin and making his cock start to harden. "Blaine..."

Blaine nuzzled lightly at his ear. "Your scent is _incredible_, tantalizing. Makes my mouth fucking water. _God_, I want to taste you."

Kurt closed his eyes as nearly unbearable pleasure rippled through him at Blaine's words and hot touch at his ear. Raw need rose to overshadow the weakening whisper of good sense. He could feel his chakras opening, not to draw the power of the earth, but to draw Blaine into him somehow, as though he were somehow an essential part of him. Blaine had him pressed up against the wall, surrounding him with his body, muscles tight with control. He turned his head to look into the glittering gold of Blaine's eyes. "Blaine," he gasped.

"Taste you," Blaine growled as he skimmed his mouth along Kurt's neck to his collarbone before capturing his mouth hungrily.

Kurt couldn't stop him. Nor did he want to. He turned into the kiss and returned it, hot and desperate.

Blaine wrapped an arm around Kurt to pull him away from the wall and closer to him. He put his hands on his waist possessively before sliding them down to cup his ass, his fingers digging into the firm flesh when Kurt ground against him, wanting more. Blaine encouraged Kurt with his lips to open his mouth. His tongue slid in and Kurt could taste him; pure Blaine, hot and strong. Kurt's heart pounded and every part of his body that touched Blaine's burned, every part that didn't touch him ached.

"Kurt? Are you there?" called out a digitalized voice.

Blaine jerked as though ice water had been thrown on him, quickly letting go of Kurt. "I'll kill her. I swear to God, I will find out who Elvira is. I'll find her and I'll kill her," he snarled in frustration. "Hang on. I'll just close the laptop."

Kurt instantly missed the contact, missed the heat and the feel of Blaine's possessive hands holding him against his hard cock. But common sense stepped in finally, and Kurt stopped him. "Wait, Blaine. Let me talk to her. We only have a few days."

Blaine closed his eyes as he inhaled deeply. He nodded and stepped aside to let Kurt by.

Kurt crossed over to the bed and picked up the laptop from where it had crashed to the floor. The Elvira avatar looked back at him. Was he imagining it, or was there disapproval in her eyes? Did she know he and Blaine had been making out?

"Are you okay, Kurt?" Elvira asked.

"I'm fine. But we're running out of time. Just a few days until the moon goes to waxing gibbous stage," Kurt answered her.

Elvira nodded. "Yes. I know."

"What's the difference between a demon witch and an earth witch?" asked Kurt, having had time to think on things and form questions.

"Well, all witches are born earth witches. Our history shows that some witches discovered how to summon demons," Elvira answered.

Kurt frowned slightly.

"Why would they want to do that?"

"The biggest reason is power. But they also figured out it gave them the ability to bypass witch karma. A demon's powers don't have witch karma attached to them. A few witches experimented with summoning demons and negotiating with them for harmful powers. Each time a witch summons a demon, witch karma is bypassed, but her soul gets marked. The more curses a witch uses, the more of her soul is marked, until eventually the demon owns the witch's soul and she is a demon witch," explained Elvira.

"Demons want witch souls? But what for?" Kurt asked.

Elvira's lips tightened.

"Earth witches have the power to banish demons. Or, at least, we did. Since the curse, it's difficult and more dangerous to do it."

"So, that's the curse on hunters and witches, then. Getting us out of the way so demons have access to earth," Kurt surmised.

Elvira nodded again.

"Yes. The demon witches who brought it on were doing what their demons wanted. They captured the hunters and managed to get one to renounce The Slayer, which set up the loophole for the witches to cast the curse."

Kurt looked up at Blaine. He had moved to stand nearby, close enough that he could feel the heat of his body. His golden eyes sparked with anger as he said, "Hunters knew the risk. We were given immortality and strength, a high tolerance to pain and a fast healing ability. In exchange, we were to serve The Slayer and never renounce Him. Two hunters endured horrific torture but refused to renounce The Slayer, and the demon finally killed them. But the third one did; renounced Him. The fucking coward."

Elvira got Kurt's attention back, saying, "Do you understand now how dangerous demon witches are? The one that cursed Sammy is going to come after you. She will know when you undo her curse and will come after you."

Kurt didn't look up, didn't want Blaine to see his fear of the demon witch. "I can't worry about that right now," he said. He knew now who he was and what his purpose was, and he wasn't going to walk away from it.

Elvira practically seethed with fury. "Do you think Blaine's going to protect you? If, and I promise you it's a _very big if_, you can heal his sister, he's going to toss you out. He won't hunt down and kill the witch to save his own sister's life, why would your life be worth it?"

Kurt swallowed hard and looked up at Blaine, meeting his fiercely determined eyes. It was the truth. He was only there to heal Sammy. He was a threat to Blaine, a threat to his soul.

"Don't listen to her. I'll figure something out," Blaine bit out harshly as he glared at the computer.

"Like what? Locking me away somewhere for the rest of my life?" Kurt asked hollowly. He couldn't listen to empty words. And he wouldn't spend the rest of his life, however long it might be, shut away. He stared at Elvira. "First I heal Sammy. Then I'll concentrate on surviving. We need to keep working." He purposefully shut Blaine out. He had to do it. He couldn't be seduced into believing Blaine really cared for him when he was only there because of Sammy.

"Kurt, I'll find a place for you," Blaine said, his voice harsh.

Kurt nodded, but he didn't look up at Blaine again. "Fine. Go do that, then. I need to be working now." He kept staring at the floor until he finally heard Blaine's footsteps retreating to signal his departure.

Tina sighed. "I'm afraid for you if you trust him. You know that, don't you?"

Kurt still didn't look up. "Yeah."

There was a long pause then Tina sighed again. "Will you be okay? I have some work to take care of. I'll also talk to some other witches and see what I can find out about communicating with the Ancestors. I'll check in on you later."

Kurt nodded, and after a brief hesitation, Tina vanished.

Kurt was alone. Again.

* * *

"I talked to some of the witches."

Kurt jumped and lost control of the books he was levitating in Blaine's office, causing them to fall to the floor with a thump. "Jesus, Ti-" Kurt shut his mouth with a snap. Even though there wasn't anyone on the screen and no one on the lower floor with him, that didn't mean no one was listening. The big screen flickered and Elvira appeared on it. "Don't sneak up on me like that!" Kurt snapped. He was tired and edgy, his body ached, and he was about over being banished to the basement. Even being able to talk and text with Finn hadn't lessened his irritability.

Elvira ignored Kurt's mood.

"They all agree that it's quite possible that the Ancestors are trying to reach you."

The murmur in Kurt's head rippled agreeably and he felt a sense of excitement bubble up in him. All his life he had been trying to belong somewhere, somehow, and it looked like he was finally going to.

"You mean they'll let me on the witch loops?"

"It's actually called a Circle, Kurt," corrected Elvira. "Earth witches circle to strengthen each other where we can. And they won't let you on yet, not while you're living and working with a witch hunter."

Kurt fought back a wave of disappointment. He focused on one of the books on the floor and summoned power through his chakras, trying to lift it back onto the bookshelf. The book shot across the room, scattering papers on Blaine's desk and slamming into the wall. Kurt winced when he saw the sizable dent in the wall and hoped that maybe Blaine wouldn't notice.

"You lost control," observed Elvira. "Control takes mind, body and chakra connection. You can't let your emotions break your connection. That's how rogues control us. Enough cuts break our connection to our powers and cause our chakras to close down."

Kurt was in no mood for a lecture.

"Blow me," he snarled, glaring at the screen.

Elvira sighed heavily.

"Kurt, I'm sorry. It's unfair that the Circle won't let you in, but they are cautious for a good reason. You're living with a witch hunter-"

"Do I really have to remind you that _I'm a prisoner in his freaking basement?_" Kurt spat in frustration. No matter what Blaine said about not being afraid of him, he was. Kurt could feel it. And it was worse because every time Blaine touched him, he felt hawk wings–the wings that had always come to him in comfort when he was a child rejected him now.

Elvira's voice sharpened. "Then don't be a prisoner. Quit feeling sorry for yourself and use your powers."

Kurt felt a niggling sense of shame. He was taking his frustrations out on the one person who was trying to help him.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry for being a bitch to you just now." He took a deep breath and concentrated on the book that had flown across the room. It lifted off the floor and moved back to its place on the shelf. The other books soon followed it.

"He's getting to you," Elvira said.

"It's the hawk," Kurt said, not bothering to deny it. "I feel a connection to Blaine's hawk tattoo. Maybe I'm just crazy. Not a witch, just certifiably nuts."

Elvira was quiet for a moment. "I think I'd be crazy, too, if I were locked away from the earth elements. We need to be outside to feel the wind, the sun and the moon. It feeds our souls."

"Outside," Kurt whispered. "You're right. I need to find a way to get outside." He sighed, then looked at the screen again. "So what else did the Circle say?"

"Two things. First, you should try to call a familiar. See what happens," Elvira said.

Kurt stared at the screen. "Wait, what? How exactly am I supposed to do that?"

"It's not a formal ceremony. You go outside at night, under the moonlight, and ask the Ancestors to send you a familiar," Elvira explained.

"I can't just pick an animal? Like a cat?" Kurt asked.

"No, there's a little more to it than that," Elvira said with a small laugh. "I mean, it _could_ be a cat, but you don't know. The animal has to agree, and it will come to you. Then you take something silver and imprint its likeness on that silver, and you'll wear that silver close to or on your body. That symbolizes a soul bond."

"I think I know what I can use," Kurt said, reaching up to touch the silver Celtic knot at his throat. He should be able to imprint something there.

"You have to open your fifth chakra to do it," Elvira continued. "That's where the magic to bond with your familiar comes from. The moon will help you, if it can be done."

Kurt felt his hope dim.

"No witch has successfully called a familiar since the curse?"

Elvira's face fell slightly.

"No. Not that we are aware of. Many have tried, but they've all failed."

"What about you? Have you tried?" Kurt asked her.

"I tried once." Elvira's voice was introspective. "A long time ago. I can open my fifth chakra."

Kurt nodded and didn't ask anything more about her attempt to call her familiar.

"And the second thing?" he reminded her.

"In order to do the spell, you'll need your witch book," Elvira said.

Kurt stared at the screen wordlessly for a moment. "I don't have a witch book."

Elvira's face turned sympathetic.

"It's usually passed down from our mothers. You're adopted, so that's a problem."

Kurt ran a hand through his hair in frustration.

"What am I going to do? I mean, Dad registered me with a parent search agency before he died, but I don't have that kind of time!"

Elvira shook her head, then smiled mysteriously.

"I think you probably have your witch book. Your mother would have known you'd need it one day. She would have left it with you when she gave you up for adoption. I _know_ she did."

Kurt was confused. What was Elvira trying to tell him? What did she know that he didn't? Something his mother had left him, something...

"_Oh!_" he gasped. Of course. Tina had seen it hundreds of times.

* * *

"We have to go to my apartment."

Blaine jumped out of bed on full alert, startled out of sleep. Kurt stood in the doorway of his room.

"What are you doing up here?" he asked incredulously.

Kurt put his hands on his hips.

"I'm through being held prisoner in the basement. That isn't the point here."

Blaine ran a hand through his curls.

"No, that _is_ the point. I had the door to the bottom floor locked." He looked at the clock. He had slept two, maybe three hours at the most. He had gotten home late, and then had that conversation with Kurt that ended on _such_ a high note. After that, he'd spent a few hours trying to find a safe place for Kurt and looking for demon witches. Kurt's voice cut into his scattered thoughts and got his attention.

"I unlocked them," Kurt said.

Blaine watched as Kurt's silver witch shimmer brightened with pride. That brought him fully out of the sleep fog.

"Shit, Kurt, you can't startle me awake like that. What if I'd smelled the power in your blood and lost control before I was fully awake?"

Kurt waved a hand in dismissal.

"Stop arguing with me. There's something at my apartment that I need to get."

Blaine rubbed a tired hand over his face and stifled a groan. Obviously he wasn't going back to sleep.

"_Fine_. Tell me what you need and I'll go get it."

"I'm going with you," Kurt said. He ran his eyes down the length of Blaine's body and added, "Put some clothes on."

Blaine had slept in his boxers.

"You're the one barging into my room, babe," he said, smirking as he strode across his room to his dresser. He yanked out a pair of jeans and started pulling them on. "What is it you need from your apartment?"

"I need the tapestry my biological mother left with me when she gave me up. I think it's her witch book," Kurt explained, trying not to stare.

Blaine pulled a t-shirt over his head and turned back to Kurt.

"What's a witch book?"

Kurt quickly tore his fascinated gaze from Blaine's stomach.

"Spells passed down from generations of witches."

Blaine was tugging on his heavy boots.

"Okay. The one over the fireplace, right?" he asked, remembering seeing it when he went over there to get Kurt's things.  
Kurt narrowed his eyes.

"I'm going with you, Blaine."

Blaine stood up and stared hard back at Kurt.

"No, you're not. It's too dangerous. I've already killed rogues that were after you and killed a man who was once my best friend to keep you safe. There's no way in hell I jeopardize your safety now."

Kurt crossed his arms.

"I'm going."

Blaine didn't say anything. He wasn't going to waste time arguing. He strapped on his knife holster and reached for his knife. The scent of Kurt was in the air, vanilla mixed with the dark underlying spice of his power.

The knife slid across the nightstand and onto the rumpled bed.

The spicy scent of Kurt's power grew stronger, more enticing. Blaine felt the blood rushing hot under his skin.

"Knock it off," he warned as he reached for the knife again. The knife responded by sliding towards the bottom of the bed.

The witch was toying with him. Blaine knew he could grab the knife and be on Kurt before he could even think of his next move. But that didn't scare Kurt. Not his witch. Struggling between amusement and keeping the curse under control, Blaine gave Kurt a look.

"Stop screwing around."

Kurt raised an eyebrow at him then moved his gaze to the knife. He held out his hand and the knife flew up from the bed and across the room to land in it.

"Looking for this?" he asked casually, twirling it easily in his hand.

Blaine's stomach clenched. If Kurt hadn't been accurate, that knife could have sliced through him.

"You're getting better with your powers."

Kurt's pink lips parted into a wide smile.

Even with the curse chomping on his guts, Blaine was struck by just how _beautiful_ Kurt was when he smiled like that–confident and glowing with power.

"You want your knife, you take me with you," Kurt insisted.

Blaine knew he needed to leave the room, needed to get some distance from the sweet scent and the call of Kurt's power-laced blood. He told himself to walk out. Instead, he walked to Kurt and reached out to touch his face. The feel of his soft, warm skin raced through his fingertips and blazed a trail of fire to his groin while cooling the burn of the curse.

"I won't chance taking you," he stated emphatically. "The rogues know where you live and they'll be watching. I can slip by them and get the tapestry. But I won't risk you, won't let them get to you."

Kurt's face fell and his joy dimmed.

"It was worth a shot, I guess."

Blaine moved his hand away from Kurt's face and with a swift move, took the knife from him before he could react.

"Hey!" Kurt protested.

Blaine grinned in response.

"I could've gotten it at any time. But you were having such a good time 'tormenting' me."

Even if it ignited the curse and was physically painful, he found Kurt's exhilaration in his newfound powers intoxicating.

* * *

Blaine wasn't surprised to find Finn Hudson waiting for him at Kurt's apartment. He had tried to follow him home last night, and Blaine had finally had to get Mike and Sam to run interference and cut him off. The man obviously had some skills, and Blaine recognized a deep protectiveness of Kurt in him. Like a brother. It was similar to how Blaine felt for Sammy.

Kurt had probably called Finn and told him Blaine would be at the apartment to get the tapestry. So, while Blaine wasn't surprised to see him there, he _was_ surprised by the woman with him. A petite blonde sat huddled on the couch, wrapped in a too large flannel shirt and nervously wringing her clasped hands together in her lap.

Blaine heard a distinct hiss from the cat sitting on the silver box in the tapestry. He glanced quickly at the picture and, for the first time, noticed that the color of the cat was nearly an identical match to Kurt's hair. The threads shimmered with magic. How had he managed to miss that when he was here before? Neither Finn nor the woman seemed to notice the noise, and for now, Blaine ignored it. Closing the door behind him, he looked towards Finn.

"Kurt told you I'd be here?"

Finn nodded his head once, standing alert in the living room.

"Yeah. Quinn's sick."

Blaine's hazel eyes swung to the blonde on the couch.

"Quinn?" He could smell the sour mix of fear and illness coming from her.

To his surprise, she stood up. "I'm Quinn Fabray. Fabray-Mireles, actually. I need to know if my husband-" she broke off with a wince but gritted her teeth and closed her eyes. "If my husband is one of you," she ground out.

Blaine figured the shirt she wore was one of Finn's and not her husband's. He looked steadily at her. What had Kurt told them? "What is it you think I am?"

Finn moved to stand beside her protectively.

"Dude, she can't say it. Something's wrong with her, but whenever she tries to remember, she gets these wicked headaches and nausea."

Blaine frowned. It sounded like a witch hunter had been shifting and manipulating her memories repeatedly. He moved towards the couch to study her. She was thin, too thin, with dark circles under her eyes that testified to her state of exhaustion and worry. He stopped when her eyes widened and she took a step towards Finn. He recognized the deep fear in her blue eyes. He had seen the signs before; confusion, desperation, paranoia, almost like an addict. But it wasn't drugs. She was the victim of a rogue screwing with her head. Many women who had been mistreated like this committed suicide to escape the damage. But Quinn was fighting back, harder than anyone Blaine had ever seen before.

"Quinn, do you want to know?" he asked her gently, not wanting to frighten her more.

Quinn wrapped Finn's shirt around her more tightly, clearly taking comfort in it.

"Yes," she whispered. "I have to know. What do I need to do?"

Blaine kept his voice gentle.

"I'm going to come closer to you, and you're going to look me in the eyes."

To his surprise, Quinn sucked in a harsh breath and took a step towards him instead. He stood still and let her come to him. Her courage was evident with each step she forced herself to take. Blaine came to the unwelcome realization that it wasn't just the witches suffering from the actions of the rogues. Mortals were being affected as well. He had tried for years not to get involved in any way, and while he and his men were knocking around his club and screwing mortals, people like Quinn suffered. Quinn had come to stand about a foot away from him.

She raised her gaze to his, her eyes fearful yet determined, and said, "Do it."

Blaine looked into her eyes and traced her optic nerves to her short term memory. His stomach turned in disgust when he found scarring from repeated invasions by a hunter. He could smell the lingering copper scent of a rogue left on her. Judging from the damage he found in her brain, he said, "He cut you. Often and repeatedly." It was a brutal way to fuck with someone's mind. It created a pain-memory reaction, and every time Quinn tried to remember what the rogue didn't want her to, the pain he inflicted on her would flash through her mind.

Quinn's pale complexion lost all pretense of color as the blood drained from her face.

"No," she whispered as she backed away.

Blaine felt rage simmering hot inside of him. This woman was broken because of a rogue hunter. He couldn't even try to help her by softening the memories because of the extent of the damage. He looked over at Finn. "I need to see the cuts."

Finn quickly moved to Quinn's side and put his hands on her shoulders protectively. He lowered his forehead to touch hers. "I'm here. I won't let him hurt you, you know that, right? But we want to know. You _need_ to know. Okay?"

After a long hesitation, Quinn nodded and exhaled a shaky breath.

Finn let go of her shoulders and eased his shirt off her thin shoulders.

"The cuts are on her breasts and stomach. She believes she cut herself."

Blaine nodded.

"Show me her stomach."

He knew that if he did this, if he touched those cuts and felt the heat of a hunter blade that he would have to start making choices. He had only been trying to keep his soul and protect his mom and sister, something that was working out _really_ shitty at the moment. Yet this woman was fighting to be strong despite serious damage that would destroy most mortals. Her courage was greater than his, and that shamed him.

Finn gently took the edge of Quinn's shirt and raised it. Blaine saw a flash of shock on his face that melted away to white hot fury when he saw the white scars striping the creamy flesh of her belly. He focused on the straight cuts and moved slowly towards her.

"Quinn, talk to me. Tell me something pleasant, anything," he encouraged her, needing to provide a distraction.

Finn jumped in.

"Tell him about how cute you were in your cheerleader outfit back in high school."

Quinn swallowed twice before she spoke in a low voice, "Finn was the quarterback. All the girls loved him. He was a big flirt. But he was so cute with his brown eyes and his smile."

While she talked, Blaine reached out and laid his hand on the healed cuts on her stomach. When she flinched, Finn put a hand on her shoulder.

"You used to walk by me in the halls everyday in that short little cheer skirt. God, I wanted you. But you wouldn't have me."

"I was playing hard to get," Quinn said, her voice tight with tension.

Blaine could feel the distinctive heat of a hunter blade in the cuts. She had definitely been tortured. He ran a gentle hand over the slight curve of her belly thoughtfully and frowned.

Finn smoothed her shirt back down when Blaine removed his hand.

"Kurt always said you were playing hard to get," he said softly.

Quinn looked up at him, her eyes suspiciously bright.

"He did? Even when I wasn't there for him like I should have been?"

Blaine stood up straight, feeling something fiercely protective ripple through him.

"What do you mean?"

Quinn's eyes flickered towards him nervously.

"We were kids. You know how kids can be, right? Kurt had a tough time of things in high school. People calling him Porcelain and whispering that he was a freak, and gay at that. We were friends, but I was the head cheerleader, you know? Back then, social position was everything. I was on top of the heap, but it could have been pulled out from under me like that, and there were others just waiting for it to happen so they could take my place. There were times that I could have stood up for him that I didn't," she said softly.

Blaine's chest ached thinking of Kurt trying so hard to fit in, wanting to be accepted.

"You came for me when you saw Kurt go after Karofsky, though. You were worried about him," Finn reminded her, rubbing her shoulders.

Quinn huffed out a humorless laugh.

"It wasn't the first time Karofsky had bothered him, though. I was worried he might stuff Kurt in a locker or beat the crap out of him, and instead he pulls a knife on him and nearly slashes his throat." She stopped, her face tightening with pain. "Something about that day, though. I know Kurt will believe me, but I can't remember what I want to tell him."

Blaine saw her mind struggling to make the connection.

"You were there, Quinn? What happened?"

Quinn raised a shaking hand to rub her forehead.

"Finn and I got there and saw the knife fly out of Karofsky's hand and hit him in the neck. But then Kurt's throat started bleeding everywhere. Karofsky froze and looked like he'd come out of a trance. Like he didn't know what he was doing. When Coach Sylvester got there, he was still looking just stunned. He never came back to school after that."

Blaine nodded.

"Witch children are normally home-schooled for their own protection, to prevent these things from happening. At that point I'm sure that, on some level at least, you realized Kurt wasn't mortal. You saw him use his powers to cut that guy with his own knife, and then suffer the consequences of witch karma. And by now you know what guy was. So when strange things started happening to you, you knew that Kurt would believe you and try to help. That's why you sought him out."

The teen who had threatened Kurt had been a hunter, but he wasn't rogue, or at least not then. If he had been, two mortal teenagers wouldn't have been able to stop him, and Kurt would be dead. And then Blaine wouldn't have him, which was a thought he couldn't tolerate.

Quinn raised her head and breathed in deeply.

"That makes sense. Then maybe I'm not crazy."

Finn put his arm around Quinn's shoulders and said, "Tell us what you found when to touched her cuts."

Blaine looked directly at Quinn.

"You aren't crazy, and you didn't cut yourself. Your memory has been tampered with using a brutal method of cutting you repeatedly and simultaneously forcing commands into your brain so that every time you try to remember certain things, you feel extreme pain."

"You mean like hypnosis?" Quinn asked faintly. She looked as though only Finn's supporting arm was holding her up, and he led her to the couch to sit down.

Blaine inclined his head.

"Similar, but this is more powerful. Any hunter can alter memories. We literally travel your optic nerve to short term memory and superimpose a new memory over the old one. It may leave the person feeling disoriented and frustrated, but if only done once or twice, it's pretty harmless."

"And if it's done over and over?" she whispered brokenly.

Blaine sighed.

"Brain damage," he answered reluctantly.

Quinn's eyes again sparkled with unshed tears.

"But why? Why would someone do something so horrible?"

"Most likely for control. You said you're married?" Blaine asked.

"I am. Or at least I was. I ran away. But I can't remember..." her voice trailed off as her eyes closed tightly against the pain.

Blaine had his answer.

"Don't try, you won't be able to. You need to find a witch who can help you. A mortal doctor can't fix this."

"Maybe Kurt can help her," suggested Finn.

"Kurt's just learning to use and control his powers. Something like this would take someone with much more experience with brain damage," Blaine said.

Finn's frustration burst out of him.

"And where exactly do we find something like that? Not like we can just open the fucking yellow pages or look it up on Wikipedia or something."

Blaine walked over to the fireplace and reached for the tapestry.

"Kurt is in contact with a witch that's helping him, maybe she can..._shit!_"

The cat on the tapestry hissed and spit as it dug its claws across the back of his hand. Blaine snatched his hand back and looked at it in disbelief as blood welled up from the scratches.

Quinn scrambled to a kneeling position on the couch.

"What just...did that thing just _move_?" she shrieked.

Blaine glared at the cat. The cat glared right back and hissed again, its tail twitching menacingly.

"What the actual _fuck_?" Finn demanded.

"It's Kurt's from his birth mother. All her spells and witchcraft are stored in this tapestry. Kurt needs it, so that's why I'm here, to get it for him," Blaine answered.

Finn stared at the tapestry in wonder.

"It's never done anything like that before."

"His mom must have spelled it to protect it from hun-" Blaine broke off, remembering Quinn. "From people like me."

He studied the tapestry. If he grabbed it by the frame, maybe the cat couldn't reach him. He grabbed the corners, and the cat went ballistic, spitting and scratching in a frenzy.

Blaine stepped back and looked at the rips clawed in his shirt. Blood was starting to well up and stain the tattered cloth.

"I'll fucking kill it," he growled, glaring at the cat.

The cat growled deep in its throat. The threads along its neck and back stood up and its tail was fluffed to twice its size.

Finn studied the tapestry.

"Kurt needs this?"

"Yes," grunted Blaine. And he would get it to him, even if it meant stabbing the fucking cat. Could he even kill a cat made of magic and thread? Probably not, but he would be more than happy to give it his best try.

"Maybe I can get it-_OW_!" Finn jerked his hand back as the cat bit him. He wrapped his now bleeding thumb in his shirt and glared at the tapestry. "Why now? I helped Kurt hang the damn thing, and it never so much as purred."

"It's reacting to me," Blaine said. "It's probably charmed to protect the magic and go after people like me."

Quinn climbed warily off the couch. "Maybe I could try."

"_NO!_" Both Finn and Blaine yelled at the same time.

Finn studied the tapestry again for a moment.

"Maybe if you put something over it, like a blanket or something."

The cat's tail snapped again angrily as it hissed again.

Blaine figured it was worth a try. He went into Kurt's bedroom and took the comforter off the bed. He hurried back to the living room at full speed, tossing the comforter over the tapestry and pulling it off the wall. The cat fought against the comforter, slashing and spitting. Blaine slammed the tapestry to the ground and trapped it with the comforter. The cat howled in fury. It sounded like it was going through a shredder.

Finn eyed it suspiciously.

"How in the hell will you be able to drive with that thing thrashing around?"

"If I can get it off the frame, I can roll it up and lock it in the toolbox of the truck," Blaine said.

Quinn tilted her head slightly.

"It's only going to let Kurt touch it. Once you move that cat's going to tear you to shreds."

Blaine narrowed his eyes as he stared at the writhing tapestry.

"I could hit it with a hammer. Or maybe run it over a few times with my truck."

"No!" Quinn was insistent. "It's only trying to protect Kurt."

Blaine wanted to bang his head on the floor in frustration. He was dripping blood on the comforter, and he needed to get the tapestry to Kurt. If he tried to put it in the truck with him for the drive, one of them wouldn't make it, he was positive.

"Go get Kurt," Finn said. "He'll be able to handle it."

"It's too dangerous," Blaine snapped. There had to be rogues watching this apartment. He was not going to let rogues get Kurt. _Ever_.

Finn threw his hands up in frustration.

"What choice do you have?"

Blaine twisted to look at Finn.

"You seem to be believing all of this this pretty easily. Do you believe Kurt's a witch?"

Finn stared back at him with determined brown eyes.

"Dude, Kurt's my brother from another mother. I know him probably better than anyone. Do I believe it? Hell, yeah, I do. And it pisses me off to admit it, but I may not be the one who can protect him this time."

Blaine raised his eyebrows.

Finn crossed his arms and said calmly, "But if you hurt him, nothing will stop me from finding you and killing you."

Blaine rose to his feet, ignoring the hissing and howling coming from the tapestry. Finn had been honest with him, so he would be honest in return.

"I'm the only thing keeping Kurt alive right now," he stated. "If rogues get him, he'll die slowly and painfully. I won't let that happen." No one was taking Kurt from him.

"Kurt's convinced me that he's safe with you. For now. And I'll accept that. But you have no choice in this case," Finn said, gesturing towards the thrashing lump under the comforter. "How important is it that you get that to Kurt in one piece?"

Sammy's life depended on it.

Finn continued, "I'll stay here and keep a look out. If I see any trouble, I'll call the cell phone you gave Kurt."

Blaine nodded and strode out, thinking all along that with Kurt, there was always trouble.

* * *

"Are you going to fix me today?"

Kurt jumped, making a small sound of surprise and dropping the iPod he was holding. He had seen Blaine's iPod by his computers in the bedroom and had been scrolling through his music. He missed his own iPod terribly.

Sammy had caught him snooping. Kurt set the iPod down and walked out into the hallway. Sammy stood there, looking smaller and paler than before. Kurt knelt down in front of her. He gently brushed her bangs back and sucked in a quick breath. The mark on her forehead had turned red and was getting darker.

"Probably not today, sweetie. But soon, I promise you. Blaine's gone to get me something I need."

Sammy hugged Tigger tighter to herself.

"Maybe tomorrow, then?"

Kurt shifted uncomfortably. What could he say to this child?

"I hope so."

Sammy stared at him with huge eyes.

"Would you read to me?"

Kurt blinked at her.

"Um, well, I-"

Mike's voice cut him off.

"Kurt, Blaine wouldn't like you being on the main floor of the house."

Kurt looked back and saw Mike on the computer screen. He frowned in annoyance. Had Mike been spying on him? He hadn't done anything wrong. He had only wanted to see what music Blaine had.

"Blaine's not here," he retorted, then waved his hand. The cord connecting the screen to the computer hard drive popped out, disconnecting them.

Sammy giggled.

"Mike's gonna be mad. He's the boss of all the computers."

Kurt smiled at her.

"The computer boss, huh?"

Sammy nodded.

"He told me he was."

Kurt tapped her gently on the nose.

"Well, looks like I'm the boss of him, yeah?"

Sammy giggled again and took Kurt's hand. He felt his heart twist, feeling the small hand in his own. He followed her down the hallway and asked, "Where are we going?"

"I wanna show you my room. Do you like books? I do. I can't read really good books yet, but Blaine and mommy read to me a lot. I can write my name. And I can write Blaine's name, too. I can call him, I know what numbers to call him with. Do you have a phone?" Sammy chattered away.

Kurt was smiling at how quickly the little girl's mind worked, quickly moving from topic to topic.

"Blaine gave me a phone. I lost my other one."

Sammy pulled him into a room at the end of the hallway. There was a full sized bed with pink gingham sheets on it. There was a small bookshelf filled with books and a toy box filled with toys. A small child sized table had a tea set laid out on it.

"Blaine let me use his phone to call Wes. Wes is my friend," Sammy informed him.

Kurt smiled at her. "He is?"

Sammy nodded.

"Yeah, he's Blaine's friend, too, but Blaine can't draw and color like me and Wes." She leaned towards Kurt and whispered, "Blaine isn't a very good artist, but don't tell him. I don't wanna hurt his feelings."

Kurt nodded solemnly. This child was irresistible. She loved her brother so much that she didn't want his feelings hurt. And Blaine loved her so much in return that he'd kidnapped a witch to heal her, putting himself at risk. And if Kurt failed, Blaine would sacrifice his soul to heal her. He cleared his throat before answering her.

"I won't say a word. Pinky swear," he promised, holding out his pinky.

Sammy wrapped her pinky around his with a giggle.

"Blaine sings really good, though," she said, catching Kurt by surprise. "Doesn't he, Mommy?"

Kurt glanced over his shoulder to see Deirdre standing in the doorway smiling at them.

"Yes, he does, sweetie. Did you ask Kurt to come play with you, or did you drag him in here?"

"I found him by himself in Blaine's room, Mommy. I don't want Kurt to be alone," Sammy said.

Kurt's throat ached. Deirdre was raising an exceptional little girl. And he amended his thoughts to include Blaine, who obviously spent a lot of time with his sister. He turned to face Deirdre, noting how tired she looked. She didn't look angry to see him with Sammy, but he didn't want to add to her troubles.

"I'll go back downstairs now," he said rising from where he had been sitting.

Deirdre shook her head.

"No, it's okay. Stay. I don't like you being down there all by yourself either. It isn't good for you. I'm going to start some dinner. Maybe you can keep Sammy entertained?"

Kurt was touched by her kindness. While Deirdre had been party to his kidnapping, her actions were borne of desperation.

"Well, I guess I can. But I should probably be practicing with my powers."

"Show me some witchcraft, please!" Sammy squeezed Kurt's hand and held out her Tigger toy. "Can you make him dance?"

"We won't know until I try. Why don't you go get on your bed? You sit on the pillows and put Tigger in the middle of the floor, okay?" Kurt gently nudged the girl towards her bed. He didn't want her too close if he wasn't able to control his powers.

Deirdre watched her daughter arrange herself as asked, excitement bright on her little face. For the moment. "She's feeling a little better, but it won't last. Each episode lasts longer and gets worse."

Kurt nodded, feeling helpless. He wished Blaine would hurry up with the tapestry.

"I'll figure something out, Deirdre."

She nodded at him.

"I know you're trying, dear. I'll be in the kitchen if you need me."

Kurt turned to smile at Sammy. He then turned his thoughts inward, running through the colors of the first four chakras in his mind. _Red. Orange. Yellow. Green._ The swooping sensation rushed through him as all four chakras opened. It seemed to be getting easier each time. He concentrated on air, using it to push Tigger upright into a standing position.

Sammy beamed and clapped her hands.

"You're doing it! He's going to dance!"

Memories of his childhood flowed through him, of playing like this with the voices and how they would help him move his toys around. He hadn't had true powers then, but the voices had filtered their massive powers through him. Shocked by the memory, Kurt lost his concentration and his chakras closed, causing Tigger to collapse on the bed. _He had been talking to the Ancestors._ Who else could it have been?

"Oh no! Tigger, get back up!" Sammy pleaded.

Kurt shook his head and made himself focus. He had let the memory interfere with his magic just as Tina had warned him. He had to keep his emotions in control. He focused on the Tigger again, manipulating the air to lift him up and make him bounce and dance. While Sammy squealed and clapped, he let memories rush over him while maintaining his focus on the toy. Memories of the voices in his head playing with him and teaching him. Until his grandfather walked in and caught him.

Tigger stumbled as Kurt remembered his grandfather's horrible fury. The terrifying lonely darkness of the closet closing in on him. The fear that one day his dad, too, would stop loving him because there was something very wrong with him.

"You need more practice," observed Sammy as Tigger listlessly swayed in one place.

Kurt shoved the unpleasant memory away and instead thought of the hawk that would come to him and keep him safe. His powers shifted back into his control and he had Tigger dancing again, and because he could, added a Raggedy Ann doll and a teddy bear into the mix.

A few minutes later, Kurt and Sammy were both giggling. He would have never thought his powers would bring him happiness. He put the stuffed bear and rag doll down and bounced Tigger across the room to Sammy's waiting arms. Her cheeks were flushed red from her laughter, but it only made the rest of her look more pale.

"Tired, sweetie?" Kurt asked her tenderly.

Sammy nodded.

"Yeah," she affirmed, nodding. "And my head hurts."

"Want me to go get your mom?" Kurt asked her as he stroked her hair softly.

Sammy scooted over to make room and patted her bed to show Kurt she wanted him to sit next to her. He did, taking her small hand and giving it a squeeze.

Sammy snuggled up to Kurt's side.

"Can I tell you something?" she whispered.

Kurt tensed as he felt a dark slithering sensation low in the pit of his belly. He wondered if it was what Sammy was feeling.

"Sure you can, sweetie," he whispered back.

"The bad shadows come at night," Sammy said in a tremulous voice.

Kurt pulled her into his lap and wrapped his arms around her. This scared him shitless, so it had to be beyond terrifying for Sammy.

"Oh, baby. It's nightmares, bad dreams."

Sammy wrapped shaky arms around him and shook her head. "They're going to get me! They want to eat me!"

"_No_. I won't let them," Kurt promised. He would fix this somehow, he vowed to himself. He was a witch, damn it. He had powers. He had to be able to do _something_.

"My head hurts," Sammy whimpered again.

Kurt put a cool hand on her forehead. This time, without even a thought, his chakras opened. He closed his eyes and concentrated. He wanted to narrow his focus to draw out pain and illness. He reached inward, looking for the dark slithery feeling he'd felt when Sammy asked to tell him something. He couldn't break the curse without high magic, but he could try to ease the symptoms a bit with what he had.

He felt waves of feelings; Sammy's love for her mother and Blaine, and for the men that were Blaine's friends, even her love for her Tigger. He could feel how much she liked to swing and have tea parties with Blaine, Blaine singing to her as he twirled her around, her favorite books, drawing, and there...

Something dark and painful.

Kurt focused on the dark, separating it from everything else. He imagined it as a thread and slowly began tugging on it, pulling it out. He felt a vibration at the core of himself when Sammy squirmed and whispered, "Hot."

He had to do more. So while he pulled the dark thread out, he sent back cool soothing energy. He could feel Sammy relaxing in his lap.

"Better, sweetie?" he whispered softly.

Blaine's voice broke into the quiet.

"What are you doing?"

Kurt's eyes snapped open. He gasped as Blaine strode into the room. Gently moving Sammy out of his lap, Kurt jumped up.

"You're bleeding!"

Blaine looked like he'd tangled with barbed wire. Scratches covered his arms and his shirt was tattered. There was an angry looking scratch on his face.

"Fucking cat," Blaine muttered.

"Fucking cat," echoed Sammy with a giggle, just as Deirdre walked in.

"Sammy!" admonished Blaine and Deirdre at the same time.

Deirdre picked Sammy up and looked Blaine over.

"Are you okay?" she asked her son.

"Fine," answered Blaine shortly.

She lingered for a moment, looking him over to be sure then walked out with Sammy.

Kurt stared at Blaine.

"What cat? I don't have a cat. You look like you've gone a couple of rounds with a panther, not a cat."

Blaine wiped blood away from the cut on his face with the back of his hand and glared at it.

"That cat from the tapestry."

Kurt frowned. The tapestry had never done anything like that before.

"It scratched you? Where is it?" He reached out to touch the deep scratches on Blaine's arm. "I can try to heal-"

"Forget about them," Blaine said as he took Kurt's arm to guide him out of Sammy's room. "The tapestry is still at your place."

Kurt struggled to understand as Blaine propelled him towards the front door.

"You couldn't get it? You're taking me home? I get to go?" He felt excitement increase his heartbeat. He would get to go outside, breathe in the fresh air and feel the warmth of the sunshine. He would see his apartment. He'd be free for just a short time.

"I couldn't get it without damaging it," Blaine grumbled as they walked out into the front yard.

Kurt breathed in deeply. The air smelled wonderful and a rush of pleasure filled him. When they got to the passenger side of the truck, Blaine turned to him.

"Your birth mom must've put a protection spell on the tapestry. It won't let anyone else move it," he said.

Kurt felt his heart give a little lurch. His birth mom had cared enough for him to do that. Maybe there was somewhere in the world he belonged after all. Maybe after the tapestry healed Sammy it would lead him to his birth mother. Maybe the woman who had given birth to him wanted to see him. He realized Blaine was still staring at him.

"What?" he asked.

Blaine's hazel eyes hardened.

"I'm taking you because I have no choice. You have to have that tapestry. It's dangerous and rogues could be anywhere. If they shield their presence, I might smell them, or I might not until it's too late."

Kurt could feel Blaine's anxiety.

"Okay."

"Don't fuck with me, Kurt. No funny witch games. No shit with your brother. He's already there at your apartment, and I'll explain on the way. But know this; if it comes down to it, I won't hesitate to bring you back with me by force." Blaine spun on his heel and walked around to the driver's side of the truck.

Kurt bowed his head. He tried to swallow down the thickness that suddenly appeared in his throat. He had thought they were...what, friends? That he mattered somehow? If nothing else, he had thought Blaine could trust him to do all he could for Sammy.

* * *

**TBC**

**ittlebitz . tumblr . com**


	6. Mayhem and Moonlight

**Title:** Hot Under My Skin

**Author:** Ittlebitz

**Pairing:** Kurt/Blaine

**Rating:** NC-17 over all, NC-17 this chapter

**Warnings for this** **chapter:** violence, minor character death, descriptions of blood, description of past abuse. And sex (oral and barebacking). Yeah.

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. I don't own Glee or any of its characters. Which is why such crazy shenanigans are going on right now. I own a copy of the book Blood Magic. It's not much of a consolation prize at the moment...

**Author's Note: **All my love to by bestie/beta Sam for her incredible beta skills and for not killing me when I whine about it.

* * *

"Finn!"

Kurt spotted his stepbrother in his apartment and rushed through the door, not even giving a second thought to his comforter being on the ground in his living room rather than on his bed. His eyes stung with sudden tears as the sight of him brought forth all his emotions. But a few feet away from Finn, he slowed to a stop. He was a witch. There was no denying now that he truly was different from everyone else. What if Finn rejected him?

"Finn, I-" he began, voice cracking.

Finn's eyes flared with fierce emotion. He closed the distance between them and hauled Kurt against his chest in a tight hug.

"Jesus, Kurt," Finn said, his own voice thick with emotion. "You're my brother. With Mom gone, you're all I've got. Don't ever scare me like that again."

Kurt's shaking arms were wrapped around Finn's waist. "Your brother is a witch, it seems. That's not going to bother you?" He couldn't help it. All his life he'd wanted to fit in, to be normal enough to fit in. And he knew now that he never would.

Finn leaned back and tilted Kurt's chin up to look at him. He grinned at him affectionately.

"Dude. I'm proud of you. _Always_. I'm proud you're different. It's one of the best things about you!" His face turned serious. "I told the guys at work you were taking some time off after Burt died. Everyone thinks it's a good idea, so no one is suspicious or anything."

Sadness crept over Kurt and he lowered his head again. "I don't know that it will ever be safe for me to come back, Finn. The paperwork is in my office and you are on all the accounts. The shop is yours."

"Now, wait, Kurt," Finn protested.

But Kurt cut him off. "I know Dad would be happy with this Finn. He loved you as though you were his, you know."

It was true. Burt had become a father for Finn when he started dating Carol. Finn's own father had been troubled and died of an overdose after being dishonorably discharged from the army. Finn had joined the military himself, hoping to make his own positive mark on the world and nullify the negative created by his dad. Instead, he had come home marked in a way that Kurt couldn't see, but could definitely feel.

"Screw that," Finn argued. "We're partners. And it's you I'm worried about here. We'll find a way to keep you safe, I promise."

Kurt shook his head. "I can't, Finn. Don't you see? All witches are in hiding. Rogue witch hunters are trying to kill all of us."

A soft moan made Kurt step away from Finn to look at Quinn. She was sitting limply on the couch, hunched over and holding her head. _Damn it_, he'd almost forgotten. Blaine had told him on their way over about Quinn. It was yet another incredible thing to try to wrap his mind around; Quinn had married a rogue hunter.

Kurt walked over to her and put his hand on her shoulder. "Quinn," he said softly.

She looked up at him. "I came home because I was scared and I kept having blackouts. My husband tried to have me committed. He told everyone I was crazy," she said in a rushed whisper.

Kurt rubbed her shoulder comfortingly. "I may know someone who can help you. I'll be sure to check," he said. Tina treated brain-damage victims in her practice. But the fact that she was a witch was Kurt's secret for now. He would have to talk to Tina first before saying anything.

Blaine broke in. "We need to hurry. The tapestry is under the comforter, see if you can grab it."

Despite his obvious tension, Blaine had given him a few minutes with Finn. He always seemed to zig when Kurt expected him to zag. Kurt gave Quinn's shoulder a final squeeze and walked towards the covered tapestry. Blaine was already there waiting for him and yanked off the comforter.

Kurt looked back towards Quinn. "Quinnie, I promise you I'll call you as soon as I-"

A loud hiss cut him off.

Kurt jumped and whipped back around to stare open mouthed at the tapestry.

"Holy shit!" he gasped.

He cautiously stepped towards the edge of the tapestry, staring in wonder. The chestnut colored cat that normally sat placidly on the silver box, the same one he had looked at a million times before, stood with its back arched and ready to attack. It glared hatefully at Blaine.

"I've never seen it do anything before. It's moving! It looks real!"

At the sound of Kurt's voice, the cat turned its head to look at him.

"Nice kitty?" he said tentatively, prepared to duck if needed.

The cat sat down on the silver box and went back to being inanimate. The tapestry threads shimmered with magic. Kurt looked closely at the familiar scene. Were the spells in the silver box the cat always protected?

He breathed out a deep breath and looked at the other three in the room. "Okay, now what?"

"See if you can pick it up. Be careful, though," Blaine said, holding the comforter at the ready in case he needed to toss it over the tapestry again.

Kurt knelt down and took the tapestry by the edges of the frame. He stood and breathed a small sigh of relief when the cat remained motionless. No hissing or scratching. The cat was as it had always been. Now he needed to get it back to Blaine's so he could figure out how to get to the spells.

"Finn, I'll call you about Quinn, okay?" he said as he walked towards Blaine, who had moved to stand by the door.

Finn quickly darted between Kurt and the door to stop him. "Kurt, tell me where you're going. I have to know you're safe."

Kurt hesitated. He knew Blaine would lose it if he told Finn where his house was, so he quickly answered without thinking, "I promise I'm safe, Finn. He keeps me locked on a level below ground so no one will find me." He winced when Finn's face turned red and his eyebrows snapped together in an angry scowl.

"You mean underground? Like a fucking dungeon or something? Damn it, Kurt, you're terrified of being locked up!" Finn's voice rose with each word and shook with his anger.

Blaine glared at both of them. "We don't have time for this!"

Finn's hands clenched into fists. "This is how you treat the man who's trying to save your sister's life?"

Blaine's expression was hard, but there was an underlying tiredness. "I'm trying to keep him alive, Hudson. Don't get in my way." He took Kurt by the arm and propelled him out into the courtyard, ignoring Finn's outraged yell behind them. They both looked around quickly. Everything looked normal, but then Blaine inhaled and tensed.

"Rogues. Fuck."

Kurt caught the faint scent of copper just as two huge men with knives materialized in front of them. He stumbled backwards and Blaine, reacting in hyper speed, caught him to keep him from falling. He turned Kurt towards the apartment and gave him a shove.

"Grab him, Finn!" Blaine yelled as he unholstered his knife.

Kurt flew forward, losing his grip on the tapestry and tripping over his own feet as he stumbled. Finn caught him by the arms as he fell and yanked him into the apartment. Kurt fell to his knees with the momentum.

_Danger! Hunters! Get out! Run!_ The voices in his head erupted into screams.

Kurt could see Quinn huddled on the couch quaking in fear. Finn had moved nearby and was standing guard with his gun drawn.

Kurt looked back and felt his chest tighten with fear and rage. Blaine stood between him and the two rogue hunters. But what caught Kurt's horrified attention the most was the knife sticking out of Blaine's back below the right shoulder. He swore he could hear Blaine's hawk screech in fury in his mind. Blood was welling up and soaking the cotton of his t-shirt. Blaine twisted slightly, and Kurt could see he held his own knife at the ready.

When one of the rogues made motion to strike, Blaine feinted one way before striking fast and sinking his blade into the man's chest. The rogue's dying scream was filled with pain and terror. Blaine yanked his blade out quickly and went to turn towards the second hunter just as the rogue threw his knife.

"_Blaine!_" screamed Kurt, knowing there wasn't enough time for him to evade the knife. _Ohgodohgodohgod..._

A gunshot exploded from the apartment and the rogue went down. _Finn._

Kurt lurched to his feet and ran to Blaine.

"Blaine!" he gasped. Blood was pouring from a second wound on Blaine's shoulder where the second rogue's knife had cut him as he turned. Kurt swallowed back a wave of dizziness as Finn ran to them.

Finn quickly pulled his t-shirt over his head. "Here. Wrap his arm," he ordered Kurt.

Kurt obeyed, wrapping it around the wound and tucking it securely. "His back, Finn!"

"No time," Blaine said as he stepped back. "Finn, drive. Kurt, tapestry. "

Finn gestured them away frantically. "Go on! I'll cover!" He grabbed Quinn by the hand.

Kurt snatched up the tapestry in one hand and took Blaine's uninjured arm in the other and hurried the, towards Blaine's truck. "Keys!" he demanded. He was going to get them back to Blaine's and get Finn and Quinn somewhere safe.

"Pocket," Blaine grunted.

Kurt shoved his hand into Blaine's pocket to retrieve the keys. He opened the truck, tossed the tapestry behind the seat and motioned Blaine inside. Blaine heaved himself in to sit sideways with the knife still sticking out of his back. Kurt slammed the door behind him and raced around to the driver's side.

"Finn!" he yelled, "you and Quinn get the hell away from here! Away from me!" He climbed into the truck and quickly adjusted the seat. He fumbled with the keys, swearing under his breath the entire time. His bloody hands were slippery making it difficult to get a good grasp. _Blaine's blood_, he thought, choking back tears. Finally getting the truck cranked, he slammed it into gear.

"Doctor? Hospital? Where?" he asked frantically as he peeled out of the parking lot.

"Kurt, it's okay. I'll be fine. Get yourself together and drive home," Blaine grit out.

Fortunately, since Blaine hadn't shielded his vision this time, Kurt knew where he was going. He kept the truck at the speed limit, not wanting to attract unwanted attention. His head was buzzing, but he couldn't make out any words.

"Turn right here," Blaine directed.

Kurt made the turn and followed the directions Blaine continued to give him.

Finally Blaine said, "The only one following us is Finn."

Kurt was wound so tight he was sure just one jolt would cause him to fly to pieces altogether. "I'll take you to the hospital..."

Blaine interrupted him. "I'm fine. Just drive to the house."

"You are _not_ fine! You have a knife sticking out of you!" argued Kurt.

Blaine reached over his shoulder and Kurt narrowed his eyes.

"Don't you da-" his protest was cut short as Blaine tugged the knife out. The cab of the truck turned hot and sticky as blood poured from the wound.

"Are you fucking crazy?" Kurt yelled in a mix of frustration and horror.

He _had_ to stop the bleeding. He turned into a strip mall and whipped around to the back area where deliveries were made. He slammed the truck into park and yanked his shirt over his head, then balled it up and pressed it against the wound.

Blaine looked around to assess if they were being followed, then turned his attention to the now shirtless witch tending him. "Nice," he said, raking his appreciative gaze over Kurt's bare chest.

"For the love of-now? _Really_?" Kurt asked him incredulously. "Have you lost your ever loving mind?" He was pretty sure one of them had–and it wasn't the one pouring out blood. He pressed his shaky hand harder against the wound to control the bleeding. He was shocked to realize that Blaine's pain was flowing into him, moving from his nerve endings to his own.

His chakras had opened without him making a conscious effort. In reaction to Blaine getting hurt? Out of fear? He wasn't sure why, but it didn't matter. What mattered in that moment was Blaine. Kurt struggled not to fight Blaine's pain, closing his eyes and letting his body absorb it. He concentrated on making himself breathe and letting the pain in. He had to remain calm and centered in order to control the power flowing through his chakras. As pain traveled through him, he sent energy back in exchange–healing energy that would knit together and heal torn sinew and skin.

"Kurt, stop."

Kurt shook his head as fiery pain slid up his arm and edged across his neck before slamming into his shoulder blade. He sucked in a harsh breath, losing his connection to his energy. He opened his eyes. Had he done enough?

"Let me look," he said as he gently moved his bloody shirt off the wound.

It was barely bleeding now and the edges were coming together. The healing had begun.

"Keep this on it," Kurt said tightly as he draped his shirt on Blaine's shoulder. He turned and reached for the gearshift. He had to get Blaine home.

Blaine grabbed his hand.

"What did you do?" he demanded. "You took the pain, didn't you?"

Kurt was nearly dizzy with the pain, but it was starting to recede. He should probably try to heal the wound on Blaine's shoulder, but he didn't know if he would be able to drive if he did. The voices in his head were already fretful, making it difficult for him to focus. They had been roused to fever pitch by the rogues, and the earlier presence of the hawk in his mind had them agitated. Kurt couldn't feel the hawk now, but his earlier screech had been real and enraged.

"I just tried to close the wound a little," he said, hating that his voice wasn't as steady as he would have liked.

"Your hands are shaking," Blaine said, letting go of him. He reached behind the seat and grabbed a jacket. "Put this on," he ordered.

It dawned on Kurt that he was so rattled he had fully intended to drive home shirtless. It wasn't just seeing Blaine hurt that had him shaken up; it was the realization that Blaine had intentionally turned his body to protect him and allowed himself to be stabbed instead. He was protecting him, just as he said he would. Kurt took a deep, calming breath and stared at his hands on the wheel, but they were covered in Blaine's blood.

His vision swam for a moment, but he gave himself a sharp mental shake. He would not panic, he would not faint. He had to get Blaine home. The pain mattered little.

"Give me your arm," instructed Blaine.

Kurt lifted his right hand and let Blaine slide the jacket on. Blaine leaned over to hold the jacket for Kurt's other arm, close enough for Kurt to smell him. Feel him. His warmth stopped Kurt's shaking, and his calm breathing soothed Kurt's shattered nerves.

"You _have_ to stop moving," Kurt scolded. "The pain, the cuts..."

Blaine snorted. "I heal extremely fast. But _you_, sweet witch, were very stupid to open yourself up to my pain. Now you're suffering."

Kurt huffed and put the truck in gear. He pulled around the building and out of the parking lot. The sun was moving lower. He sighed quietly, wishing he could just sit outside somewhere and feel the warmth of the sun, or the light of the moon, on his skin. He could feel Blaine's gaze on him.

"I'm fine," Kurt said, realizing it was the truth. Somehow his body was breaking down the pain and getting rid of it.

"Like hell you are. Your shimmer is full of red splotches," Blaine said as he eased back into his seat. "You are brave, compassionate, and just too damn beautiful."

Kurt's startled gaze flew to Blaine. His voice had dropped to the low rich tone that always made his heart pound. Kurt was feeling confused, though. Protecting him from the rogues, wrapping the jacket around him, angry over his pain, Kurt couldn't quite understand. He knew Blaine needed him alive to help Sammy, but what about the rest?

"Are you bothered by being in the truck with me?" he asked.

Blaine turned away from the side mirror he'd been staring into, his golden gaze locking onto blue. "It's kind of like a buzzing that grows louder and more grating. But then you touched me, used your power to call out the pain from my shoulder, and I wanted to push you down on the seat, strip off your jeans, and possess you. That urge is harder to control than the bloodlust."

Kurt struggled to tear his gaze away and focus on the road in front of him. He spotted the turn off, one he'd never seen in all his years of living there, and turned the truck onto it. He guided it on the road that would let them into the hills.

"I won't hurt you," Blaine said softly.

Kurt's grip on the steering wheel tightened. His skin tingled, his nipples tightened and a slow burning need pooled into his groin, making his half hard cock twitch. The worst part was that Blaine _would_ hurt him. He would fuck him until he lost himself in orgasm, and Kurt would be helpless against the truth of his feelings. He would feel exactly how much Blaine hated lusting after a witch–one of those that had cursed his kind. Those feelings would penetrate him as easily as any knife and go mercilessly deeper than any blade. It would kill every last vestige of self protection he had left. He couldn't risk that.

_Even when Blaine had risked his own life for his?_

Kurt closed his eyes for a brief moment. What was he thinking? He didn't owe Blaine sex. They were both caught up in a situation. The best way to fix it was to solve the problem and get out fast.

"Hopefully the tapestry will help me cure Sammy. Then we'll be free, both of us."

Blaine frowned, not liking what Kurt was saying. "And where will you go?"

Kurt didn't know. He shrugged.

"I'll think of something," he said. He wasn't Blaine's problem. Maybe he could find his biological mother. And together they could...

Blaine cut into Kurt's daydream. "Finn is still following us. He followed us behind the strip mall and waited, and he's behind us now."

Kurt glanced into the rear view mirror and saw Finn's truck. "What do I need to do?" He bit his lip and gave Blaine a pleading look. "Please. I don't want him killed."

"I'm not going to kill him, Kurt," Blaine said evenly. "And obviously he isn't going to back off, either. You're his family. I get it. We'll sort it out at home. Out here, you are too vulnerable."

* * *

Blaine got Kurt and the other two into the house, and was finally was able to take his first real breath.

When he'd seen those rogues holding their knives, seen their eyes alight on Kurt bright with blood lust, something feral and possessive had taken over his brain.

_Mine._

He would have done anything to save Kurt in that moment.

But Kurt was no coward. He had held it together and driven them home, and this was even after he had done all he could to heal his wounds.

_Fuck_. He had to get away from Kurt. He knew it. His need for him had ramped from bearable to excruciating when he had touched him with his powers. Already fair, Kurt was still pale from the amount of pain he had pulled from him. Blaine couldn't stand it, couldn't _bear_ Kurt's agony. He had wanted to shake him by his shoulders and command him to never, _ever_ use his powers to ease his pain again.

More than anything, he wanted to pull Kurt to him. To hold him. Take his pain, fear and shock away. Assure him that he would always keep him safe. But Blaine knew he couldn't do that. Knew he couldn't risk it. He was losing his control around Kurt inch by inch.

Deirdre walked in. "Sammy's asleep," she began, then zeroed in on her blood covered son. "What is going on?" she demanded.

"I'm fine, Mom. The cuts are nearly closed," Blaine assured her. "This is Finn, Kurt's brother, and their friend Quinn."

Deirdre nodded to them. "Please. Everyone come to the kitchen. I'll get some food together and start some coffee."

Blaine said, "I'll be there in a second, okay? I'm going to change my shirt and get one for Finn to change into." He needed a minute away from Kurt, away from the feel of him. Sweat that had nothing to do with pain was breaking out on his back. His balls ached with lust and the need to possess Kurt. The need to make him _his_.

He tossed Finn's shirt in the garbage and pulled his own off to join it. The deep wound on his back was reduced to just an angry looking red welt. Kurt had done a hell of a job on that. The cut on his shoulder hardly bled anymore as his own recuperative powers kicked in. He opened the bathroom cabinet and pulled out a gauze pad and tape to put over it. His hyperactive immune system would counteract any germs, and by morning, he knew the cut would be healed.

Blaine turned on the cold water at the sink and leaned down to stick his head under it.

Finn's words about Kurt's fear of being locked up drifted into his mind, along with the memory of Kurt's first night and what he had done to him. Kurt had begged him not to lock him in, yet he had done it anyway. He'd just left him, and Kurt had responded by bashing the lock with a stool and nearly breaking his damn hand. Fortunately his mom and Sammy had gone to Kurt and kept him from doing just that or even worse.

Blaine's stomach turned with regret. But he hadn't thought he had a choice. Had Kurt gotten away, the rogues would have gotten to him and brutally murdered him. Blaine's hands tightened into fists. That wasn't going to happen. He wouldn't allow it.

Blaine grabbed a towel to mop at his wet curls, giving them a final shake. He took a deep breath and washed his hands. He hung the damp towel on the rack and walked into his bedroom. Crossing to the dresser, he pulled out a shirt and quickly tugged it on. He grabbed a second one for Finn and walked out to go to the kitchen.

Deirdre, Finn and Quinn all sat around the table drinking coffee. Blaine tossed the shirt to Finn. "Where's Kurt?" he asked.

Deirdre got up to pour a cup of coffee for Blaine and offered it to him. "He went downstairs through the pantry. Said he has work to do."

Down in the basement. Alone. Blaine rubbed at the ache in his chest absently while he added cream and sugar to his coffee. It was starting to feel as though he was somehow incomplete.

"He can eat before he goes to work."

Finn pulled on the loose fitting shirt and said, "I told him I'd go down there with him but he said he wanted to shower and clean up."

Blaine set his cup down with a thunk. "I didn't know he was claustrophobic. Why is he afraid?"

Finn's eyes turned wary and he shrugged.

Protecting his brother's secrets. Blaine knew he could beat it out of him, but knew there would be hell to pay from Kurt.

"Ok, fine. I'll ask him myself," he said, turning towards his bedroom.

"Blaine. Leave him alone," Deirdre said in a concerned tone.

"I can't," Blaine said, stopping to look at her.

"Most men are spooked by Kurt," Finn commented casually.

Blaine turned his gaze to Finn. "Mortals. Cowards. They sense his power and are threatened by it." He rubbed his hand over his face and crossed back to the counter for his cup of coffee.

"Kurt didn't like being different," Finn continued.

Blaine knew Finn was trying to distract him and at the same time test his feelings for Kurt. "He seems to like it well enough now. He used his powers to take my knife from me."

Finn's face broke into an amused grin.

"Maybe you should give him some space," he laughed.

Blaine knew he couldn't do that. So he went to the laptop at the end of the counter and pressed a key. "Kurt," he said, and Kurt's image popped into view. He looked tired and there was still dried blood on his hands. Blaine could see the tapestry propped up on the desk.

Kurt looked up at the camera. "What?"

"Come upstairs and get something to eat-" Blaine began.

"No. We both know I need to stay down here," Kurt interrupted. He dropped his head back down to focus on the tapestry, shutting Blaine out.

_Damn it_, he had told Kurt he wouldn't hurt him! "Kurt-"

"I'm busy. Go away."

Blaine frowned. So Kurt was going to bust his balls, was he? "Kurt, if I come down there..."

Kurt raised his hand and the screen went blank. Blaine slammed his coffee cup down on the counter.

Mike's face suddenly appeared on the screen. He looked amused. "He blew the cameras in his room," he said.

Finn laughed and stood up. "Show me the stairs. I'll go check on him."

Deirdre stood up and motioned for Finn to sit back down. "No, you stay here. I'll be right back." She hurried towards the pantry.

"Let Deirdre go, Blaine," Mike advised, watching Blaine carefully. "You're barely holding on."

"But he blew out my cameras," Blaine pointed out. He needed to be able to see Kurt, check on him, make sure he was okay. He needed...Kurt. _Fuck_. Mike was right. Blaine took a deep breath and turned his focus to a less volatile area. He felt along the underside of the counter until he found a button and pressed it. A large screen slid silently down from the ceiling.

"Is everyone there, Mike? We need to have a meeting."

The screen flickered to life and the faces of the other four Warbler hunters appeared on the screen in separate squares like a weird sort of Brady Bunch. Blaine motioned to the screen.

"That's Mike Chang in the top left corner. Top right is Sam Evans. Bottom left is Noah Puckerman, better known as Puck. And bottom right is Wes Montgomery." Blaine gestured towards the table. "This is Finn Hudson and Quinn Fabray."

"Hi, guys," Quinn said softly as she stared at the screen with huge eyes. "Are you all the same as Blaine?"

"These are The Warblers. They have all vowed to never become what your husband is," Blaine said, turning towards the screen. "Quinn is ill. Her husband has messed with her memory. She can't say his name and there are certain words she can't tolerate."

"Sounds like brain damage," said Puck, ever tactless.

Blaine sighed and said, "Yeah. Kurt is going to try to find a witch to help her."

"It might be a while," Kurt's voice came over the speakers. "Elvira hasn't popped up as of this moment."

"Ah, there's my eavesdropping witch," Blaine said. He had figured Kurt would listen in.

"Kurt, are you still mad at me?" Mike asked plaintively.

Blaine's gaze zeroed in on Mike. "What did you do?"

"Well, you told me to keep an eye on him. Sammy came into your room and I told Kurt he should go back downstairs. He disconnected the monitor with witchcraft so I couldn't see him on the webcam," Mike explained.

"I was only looking at Blaine's iPod! I wasn't doing anything wrong, I just wanted to look at his music!" Kurt's voice crackled with outrage.

Blaine winced. "Kurt, he wasn't accusing you of anything. No one cares if you looked at my iPod."

Kurt didn't answer.

Finn said, "Kurt uses his iPod to block out the noise he hears in his head. I found it on the ground outside the shop the night he went missing."

Blaine looked back at the laptop where the microphone was. "Damn it, Kurt, why the hell didn't you tell me?"

Nothing. Apparently Kurt wasn't speaking to him.

Deirdre walked back into the kitchen. "I'm going to make Kurt some tea," she said. She gave Blaine a meaningful look.

Blaine crossed to the laptop and put his hand over the microphone that picked up their voices.

Deirdre filled the kettle with water and put it on to boil. "He's trying desperately to get something from the tapestry but nothing so far. Elvira isn't around and Kurt can't reach her. The poor thing is on his last nerve. He threatened the cat on the tapestry if it didn't talk to him."

Blaine ran a hand through his still damp curls and down his neck. "Put something in it to relax him, Mom. He took a hell of a lot of pain from me earlier to heal the knife wound." He closed his eyes. "If he's in too much pain, he can't center and connect with his powers. I didn't stop him when I should have."

Deirdre put her hand on her son's arm. "It's more than that. He's afraid of what he'll get from the tapestry."

Blaine shifted his eyes to Finn.

Finn's expression was guarded and he looked conflicted for a moment. Appearing to come to a decision, he got up and walked over. "Can he hear?"

Blaine shrugged. "I have the mike covered, but I find if nothing else, Kurt is resourceful."

"You know Kurt's adopted, right?" At Blaine's nod, Finn continued. "His grandfather, his adoptive dad's dad, told him over and over that he was evil. Told him his birth mother threw him away because he was the devil's spawn. Whenever Burt, that was Kurt's dad, would get sick or have an episode with his heart, old man Hummel would blame Kurt and tell him he brought bad stuff to the family. Kurt would be scared and he would talk to people who weren't there, or sneak outside in the middle of the night and sing to himself. Whenever his grandfather caught him, he would lock him in the hall closet, away from the moonlight, or any light, for that matter."

Blaine's head swam with the strength of his fury and the enraged scream of his hawk. They both wanted to hunt down the man who had dared to mistreat Kurt. "His father allowed this to happen?"

"Burt? Hell, no. He would fight with his dad about it, which I think sometimes made things even worse for Kurt. I don't think Burt knew about the closet, though. He was usually in the hospital or laid up when that would happen. And Kurt didn't want to tell him because he was afraid it would make him more sick. By the time Burt met my mom and they started dating, old man Hummel had died, but by that point the damage was done. Had they met sooner and I had been there, I would never have let it happen," Finn finished angrily.

Blaine believed him. He knew that Kurt had repressed his powers to try to find a way to cope in a mortal family that didn't understand him. And now he was facing a new fear.

"He's afraid he'll find out from the tapestry that his grandfather was right," Blaine guessed.

Finn nodded. He crossed to the coffeemaker and refilled his cup before returning to Quinn's side and giving her hand a squeeze.

Blaine turned back to his mom. "No synthetic meds, okay? He can't tolerate them. Use calming herbs. When you go back down, find out what he needs from us."

More than anything, he wanted to go down there himself, but he was too edgy. His skin burned with the compulsion for Kurt's blood. But the need to strip him naked and claim him pounded inside of him with each beat of his heart.

He had to go to the club. For Kurt's safety, he needed to find a willing man. Possibly two. Yet he knew somehow that there weren't enough men to be able to cool his need for Kurt. He wanted, no, _needed_ him.

Deirdre crushed some leaves and added them to the steeping tea. "I'll take care of him and ask him what he needs."

Blaine met his mother's eyes, knew she was reading his tension and understood, at least as well as a mortal could. He took a deep fortifying breath and moved his hand off the mike. "We need to research Quinn's husband. Puck, find the bastard."

Puck grinned and cracked his knuckles. "Oh, hell yeah. Good times."

Quinn stared at the screen. "You can do that? When I can't even tell you his name?"

Sam said, "We're running a search right now as we speak. We'll see if you have a valid marriage license."

"I'll find him, Blondie. It's what I do," Puck added.

"Puck's a bounty hunter," explained Blaine. "He hunts down scum all the time."

Wes grinned. "Hanging out with all that scum is why he obviously doesn't know how to talk to ladies."

"You're all talk, Wes," stated Puck cockily. "I'm more a man of action. You know, the kind of action that has women coming back begging for more."

"Alright, enough," broke in Blaine, cutting off the argument before it had the chance to get started.

Mike spoke up from the screen. "I think I have something." He focused on Quinn. "Do you think if I show you a name you can tell me if it's your husband?"

"I'm not sure. I think..." Quinn frowned and wrapped Finn's flannel shirt tighter around herself.

"No, no, don't think. Just read this and tell me if it looks right," Mike said.

ANTONIO MIRELES popped up on the screen for a moment, then faded away back to the screen with the four men.

Quinn's mouth tightened and her nostrils flared as she breathed in hard. "Yes," she whispered.

Finn put his arm around her. "Quinn, how old are you?" he asked, and Blaine realized he was moving her mind to something she could think about and not hurt.

"Twenty five," she answered, a little color returning to her face.

Sam looked up from his work screen. "You were with the DA's office in Cincinnati?"

Quinn's face relaxed slightly. "Yes. I was on a case involving a guy who was suspected in the disappearance of several women when I started getting headaches and forgetting things. It started getting worse and then there were the cuts..." she broke off and rubbed lightly at her temples.

Blaine saw his mother walk back in. "Mom, can you show Quinn a place she can rest? She's gone through enough."

"No. Damn it, _no_." Quinn dropped her hands to pound on the table once and took a deep breath. "I didn't know where the cuts on my stomach and breasts came from. My husband said I did it to myself. But I'd never been a cutter before." She stopped, breathing heavily.

"Easy, Quinn," Finn said, putting his hand on the small of her back.

"I'm not a cutter," she insisted.

Blaine walked around and dropped down to face her. "You're right, you aren't. _He_ did this to you. He caused the wounds, the headaches, the memory loss."

"You believe me," Quinn whispered, her blue eyes sparkling with tears.

"I believe you, Quinn," Finn said softly.

"We all believe you," Blaine assured her.

Quinn nodded slowly. "I think I'll take you up on that offer to rest, if that's okay."

"I want you both to stay here. It's safer," Blaine said. He looked at Finn. "Kurt will feel better knowing you are both safe."

Finn nodded and took Quinn's hand as she stood up. "Want me to come with you?"

Quinn shook her head. "It's okay. I just want to sleep a little while."

Deirdre took her arm. "Come this way. There are two bedrooms downstairs you can choose from. That way Kurt won't be alone down there," she said as she gently moved Quinn towards the pantry stairs.

Once Blaine knew they were gone, he turned back to the screen. "The bastard caused a lot of scarring on her brain tissue. He cut her repeatedly to force a pain memory whenever she tries to remember certain things. I'm thinking it's got something to do with that case she was working."

Puck's dark eyes had narrowed. "I'm going to enjoy hunting him down."

"I'd like a piece of that action," stated Finn, crossing his arms.

Puck raised an eyebrow. "You some kind of mortal badass? Like Jack Bauer?"

Finn leaned his chair back on two legs. "Jack Bauer was once charged with attempted murder in Los Angeles County, but the judge dropped all charges because Jack Bauer never 'attempts' murder."

Puck sat up straighter in his chair. "Yeah?"

Finn continued. "Most people would need months to recover from 20 months of Chinese interrogation. Jack Bauer needs a shower, a shave and a change of clothes."

Puck grinned. "When a convicted terrorist was sentenced to face Jack Bauer, he appealed to have the sentence reduced to death."

"Jack Bauer always tests positive for steroids. Not that he uses steroids. It's because steroids are made from Jack Bauer," countered Finn.

"Jack Bauer doesn't laugh in the face of danger; Jack Bauer is the face of danger," cackled Puck.

Kurt's voice cut in. "What's worse than a pissed off Jack Bauer?"

Finn shut his mouth and sat the chair back on all four legs.

Puck fell for it. "What?"

"A pissed off witch," Kurt said.

Puck looked hurt. "You don't like Jack Bauer jokes?"

"You like Lady Gaga, Puck?" Kurt asked.

Puck's eyes widened in horror. "God, no! That isn't music, that's listening to a cat in heat set to instrumentation!"

"Then I bet you wouldn't like me zapping your speakers so that only Gaga played. And who I just so happen to like, by the way," Kurt retorted.

Puck looked wide eyed at Blaine. "Your witch is wicked mean."

Blaine grinned as pride swelled through him. "Damn right."

* * *

Blaine rolled his shoulders under the pulsing lights of Scandals. Already he wanted to leave and go home.

Back to his witch.

He was at the club to get some relief. Sex. He looked around. "It smells like sex in here."

"Everyone is tense," Wes said. He was wearing low slung jeans, a tight vee neck t-shirt, and a vibe of anger that seemed to attract women to him. He crossed his muscular arms and looked at Blaine. "Rumor has it that hunters are being forced to choose."

Blaine raised his eyebrows. "To go rogue?"

"Or die," answered Wes, his eyes glittering with hate.

Blaine turned his gaze back to the club. Hot lust pulsed along with the strobes. On one of the couches a young hunter had a woman wearing a short skirt and obviously no panties straddling him. Riding his cock while he held the base to make sure he didn't penetrate too deeply and hurt her. Just a few feet away another hunter was thrusting into a woman on a bar stool. He had her pushed far enough back to limit his access and keep his thrusts in check.

Public sex didn't usually happen at the bar. Blaine didn't really care so long as everyone played nice. But it was a sign of growing stress among the hunters. He kept his eyes moving, past the shirtless blond with the tattoos, past the brunette wearing leather chaps over his jeans. He saw them all, but Kurt was in his head. His frantic face in the truck as he tried to heal him. Or earlier, when he had kissed him after waking him and before Elvira's interruption. It was _Kurt's_ skin his palms itched to touch. _Kurt's_ eyes he wanted to watch lose focus when he came for him.

"Hell," Blaine ground out.

"Yeah, it's a real drag having your pick of hot guys," Wes commented. "Or maybe you're just getting old."

Blaine raised an eyebrow. The fucker was jerking his chain. "Not too old to wipe the floor with your ass." Maybe a good fight would ease his tension.

Wes gave him a cocky grin. "Bring it on, motherfucker."

Blaine had turned to head towards the warehouse to do some sparring when his phone rang. He frowned when he saw his dad's name on the screen. He swiped his thumb over the screen, feeling annoyed on top of everything else. "What?" he snarled into the phone.

"I have a present for you. We'll see if you're man enough to handle it," Damian sneered over the line before disconnecting.

Blaine scowled as he put his phone in his pocket. What the fuck was his dad up to now? Before he could think on it any more, his phone vibrated with an incoming message. He unlocked the screen and read **Security breach!**

A loud crash sounded from the front of the club. Blaine shoved his phone back in his pocket and grabbed his knife in one quick movement. He grabbed his gun with his other hand as back up.

The sound of screams, shattering glass and splintering wood was loud in the air, but then suddenly, everything seemed to halt entirely. Blaine could hear the sound of an idling engine and the muffled sound of weeping and groans of pain. An occasional snap of electricity sounded from shattered lights.

Blaine quickly moved past all the chaos to the front of the club where a large Escalade had crashed through the darkened security glass of the club front.

"Get everyone out!" he yelled, thinking there might be a bomb in the vehicle. He ran to the front of the Escalade to see if it had hit or trapped anyone under it. The closer he got, the more the smell of blood grew. Thick. Spicy. Intoxicating.

_Witch blood_.

Blaine felt sweat break out and coat his body in seconds. He tightened his grip on his knife. _He had to get to the blood. Needed to feel it. His veins burned hot with the want..._

"No!" Blaine stumbled back and slammed into two young hunters with their knives in their hands. Their eyes burned with bloodlust. The Escalade was full of live witches. He could hear them moving and crying. Hunters were circling around the vehicle and Blaine could feel his own need screaming through him.

The two hunters attacked him, desperate in their desire to get past him and to the witches. Blaine had a split second to decide if he would kill them or try to disable them. He quickly spun and roundhouse kicked one into the other, sending them to crash into a heap in unconsciousness.

All hell broke loose as hunters reacted in a frenzy brought on and inflamed by the curse. Fists and bar stools flew and knives slashed as Blaine and the Warbler hunters fought back against hunters trying to get to the witches. As he fought, Blaine became aware that several women were dragging the injured witches out of the vehicle. He silently urged them to hurry and get them out of there and to safety.

When the chaos finally settled, he turned to look towards the Escalade. The engine was still idling but it was empty. The scent trail of witch blood was fading as the blood inside the vehicle dried.

Wes limped over. One eye was swollen and he had blood dripping from his nose as well as several cuts on his torso. "What a clusterfuck!" he growled.

Blaine wiped his hand over the freshly opened gash on his arm and grimaced. "Where did the women take the witches, do you know?"

"No clue, but I saw Santana in one group helping the witches," Wes answered as he wiped blood off his face with the back of his hand.

Santana was Blaine's bar manager and the daughter of a witch hunter. Her father had secluded himself in a trailer in the middle of a desert to avoid giving into the curse and had died there. Santana was smart, quick and tough. She ran the bar staff like her personal army and no hunter foolish enough to cross her ever made the same mistake twice. Blaine fished his phone out of his pocket, pulled up her number and hit Send.

"Blaine," Santana answered abruptly.

"Santana, you have the witches? Are they alive?"

"Yeah, I have them. They are helping each other heal. Jesus, Blaine, they were sliced up bad," Santana replied. Her voice shook with anger.

"Okay, listen. I'm going to give you directions to a safe house. Take them there. Get them anything they need." His tone softened. "You and the other women saved their lives tonight, Snix."

Santana gave a small huff of humorless laughter. "Sure. But for how long?"

"We're going to keep them safe," Blaine answered, then gave her the directions. She promised to check in and they ended the call.

Blaine meant it. They would keep the witches safe. But his skin still burned with the craving. His gut cramped with bloodlust. And a small voice in his head whispered _There's a witch in your house. All yours._

Blaine ground his teeth and thought of his sister. _Sammy_. He thought of how she had looked tonight when he looked in on her. Sleeping fitfully, her hair damp and limp with sweat, dark smudges under her eyes. That damned mark on her forehead had turned an ugly shade of red. And Kurt had been downstairs, doing all he could to try to pull spells from the silent tapestry.

He would not kill the witch trying to save his sister.

He would not kill any earth witch.

Blaine looked around. His club was a fucking disaster. He could hear sirens approaching. Hunters were struggling to their feet, many bloody and looking dazed. When the cops got there, a small push of their minds convinced them that the Escalade had been full of rowdy drunks that crashed into the club and busted it up, then somehow managed to escape. A tow truck showed up to remove the Escalade and, despite their injuries from the brawl, the Warblers all grabbed hammers and set to boarding up the damaged front.

Blaine's phone rang. He growled low in his throat when he saw the name on the screen and slapped the phone to his ear.

"Did you like my gift?" taunted Damian. "Did you cry like a girl and piss yourself? Or did you take back your balls and harvest the power from the witch blood?"

Blaine hated his father more than ever, but refused to rise to the bait. "Why don't you come see for yourself?"

Damian laughed maniacally.

"I bet you reek of piss. You don't get it, do you? Your little witch is finishing the curse, turning you into his familiar. Then he'll have all the power and all you'll be is witch-whipped." He laughed again as Blaine snarled and hung up.

Witch-whipped was a crude way of saying a witch had bound a hunter as her familiar. Like the demon witches had tried to do with their curse. But Kurt wasn't a demon witch, damn it. His dad was fucking with his head. Furious, Blaine shoved his phone in his pocket and hurled his hammer to the ground. He wanted to find his dad and confront him. Beat the hell out of the lousy bastard.

Mike shoved Blaine back away from the freshly boarded front. "Stop it, dumbass! He's taunting you, trying to get you to take his bait. You're so tightly wound it wouldn't take more than the smallest amount of witch blood to send you over! He wants you to come after him! He wants you at his house so he can try to turn you." Mike got up in Blaine's face. "And if he does, your witch is dead, and so is Sammy."

The truth in Mike's words slammed into Blaine forcefully and he sucked in a hard breath. But what if it was true? What if Kurt was doing something to him? When he had been threatened by rogues at his apartment, the hawk on his skin almost seemed to come to life. He would have sworn the wings tried to lift off his back. It was not just a tattoo.

"What?" Sam asked him as he walked over, seeing Blaine obviously turning something over in his mind.

Blaine knew he could tell these four men anything. "The wings. My hawk tattoo. I swear the wings tried to lift off my skin today at Kurt's apartment when those rogues attacked. And he screeched; I'm sure of it."

"How about your knife?" Puck asked.

Blaine shook his head. He had looked repeatedly. "No wings impressed on the handle. And no ring of immortality on my thumb." Those were the known signs that The Slayer had deemed one worthy of being one of his hunters. But if The Slayer had changed his tattoo, why wasn't he revealing himself?

Blaine looked his friends in the eye. "What if Kurt _is_ doing something to me? The hawk never did anything until he touched it." And _God_, his hawk wanted Kurt to touch him again. Kurt's touch made both Blaine and his hawk feel alive.

Wes shook his head. "Your tat isn't charmed by a witch. I'd know it. We'd all feel it."

That was true. They would all feel the residue of witchcraft. Blaine felt himself relax the merest fraction. He was letting his father's crazed ramblings get to him.

Sam looked thoughtful. "You managed to resist the witch blood tonight, even though you were the closest to it."

Blaine snorted. "I _wanted_ it. That was too damn close. Only the thought of Sammy kept me from going after it." And memories. Memories he didn't want to deal with. Memories of blue eyes and firm flesh that fit his hands perfectly.

Sam wasn't finished. "You put the witches in one of our safe houses."

Blaine inclined his head in acknowledgement. There was no doubt that he was changing. He couldn't allow innocent earth witches to be killed. He had to act. Was he rising to the hawk he wore, or was there more to it? He didn't know. Feeling suddenly exhausted, he said "Let's call it a night."

* * *

Blaine went inside quickly when he got home. Just as he re-armed the alarm, he heard Sammy's shrill cry of terror. "Make them stop!"

Blaine threw off his exhaustion and took off to Sammy's room at top speed. Sammy had scooted into the very corner of the bed and held Tigger clutched to her tightly. "Help me! Don't let them get me!" she cried as tears streamed down her face.

Blaine scooped her up into his arms. "No one's here, baby girl. I've got you."

He hugged her trembling body close to him. He scanned the room quickly, looking for any visible threat. He could see perfectly in the dark, but Deirdre had plugged in a Hello Kitty night light in one corner for to help Sammy with her new fear of darkness.

"No, Blaine! The shadows! Help me!" she begged, squeezing him tighter with her frail little arms. Hot tears soaked his shirt and made his gut twist. He knew she was having nightmares of being swallowed by shadows. The curse was taking hold and tormenting her mentally and physically. She shivered, but her skin was hot against Blaine's neck.

"No one's going to get you, I swear," he whispered as he strode out of the room cradling her against him.

Blaine nearly ran over Deirdre in the hallway. He reached out with his free hand to steady her, noting that she looked exhausted and thinner than ever.

"I've got her, Mom," he said quietly. "Go get some sleep."

"Is she feverish?" Deirdre whispered hoarsely. Her eyes looked haunted in the light coming from Sammy's night light and her t-shirt and sweats hung on her loosely. Dark circles of stress and fatigue smudged the skin under her eyes.

"Maybe a bit, but mostly scared from a bad dream. Go back to bed. I'll wake you if she needs anything," Blaine promised.

Deirdre looked her son over. "Blaine, what happened? You're hurt!"

Blaine shrugged. "It doesn't matter. Now go back to sleep."

"It _does_ matter," she argued quietly.

Blaine forced himself to smile. "You know I'll be healed before you get up in the morning. Now go back to bed. I'll put Sammy in there with you once I get her back to sleep." He walked past her and into the dark kitchen, taking a bottle of cold water from the fridge. "Try to drink some water, sweetie," he coaxed Sammy.

"I don't want it," Sammy said fretfully.

"One drink, Sammy," Blaine said as he walked into the living room to sit in the oversized recliner.

It had been nearly a week. Time was racing by too fast. Blaine had a list of five demon witches. Sam and Mike were cross checking them to see if any of them had a daughter that had been killed the night Sammy had been cursed.

Blaine opened the water and leaned Sammy forward gently, encouraging her to sip some.

She looked up at him sadly. "Can Kurt make me better now? _Please_?"

Blaine nearly flinched. He was asking the impossible of Kurt, expecting him to save his sister and his soul. Who was the coward? Wasn't his sister worth his soul?

_Absolutely_.

He brushed Sammy's hair back gently. "Kurt's trying, baby."

Sammy's breath hitched softly. "Blaine? Am I going to die?"

"No. I won't let you." And he wouldn't. The problem was, once he went rogue, he would go after Kurt and kill him. Nothing but his own death would stop him. So he had to time it right. He would kill the demon witch and make sure the Warbler hunters killed him immediately before he went after any more witches.

_And Kurt would end up dead anyway, slaughtered by rogues once they found him_, whispered that irritating voice in the back of his mind. He sighed and lay his head back. "Sleep, sweet Sammy."

Blaine sat there quietly as Sammy relaxed in his arms. He was obsessing over the witch. Was it his blood? His scent? That he wanted him so badly he couldn't sleep? Or had he done something to him?

When he was sure Sammy was asleep, Blaine stood and carried her into his mom's room. He pulled the covers back to lay Sammy down next to Deirdre, and covered her back up. Half asleep, Deirdre pulled Sammy close to her under the covers and fell back into an exhausted slumber.

Blaine quietly walked out and shut the door behind him. He padded down the hallway to his own room and into the bathroom. He stripped off his clothes and got into the shower, rinsing away the dirt, sweat and remaining blood from the evening. He got out and dried himself off quickly. He was about to tug on a pair of briefs when he heard his phone beep an alert.

Someone had bypassed the locks and opened the front door.

* * *

Blaine grabbed his discarded jeans and pulled them back on. He walked silently out the door and onto the porch.

Kurt paused at the top of the steps and turned when he heard the door open. The gentle light of the moon touched his skin and made his shimmer glisten. It caught the gold streaks in his hair. He wore only a thin white tank top and red briefs, leaving his long legs bare.

The sight of him struck Blaine momentarily dumb. He was drawn to him. He nearly took a step towards him but managed to stop himself.

"What are you doing out here?" He asked, knowing Kurt wasn't trying to escape him in his underwear and bare feet.

"I'm going to try to call my familiar. I need to be in the moonlight." Kurt rubbed his hands up and down his arms before crossing them. "I can't get anything from the tapestry. Not even a meow. I just know the spells are in that box!" His frustration caused his witch shimmer to dim slightly and goosebumps broke out on his arms.

"Wait a second," Blaine said. He turned back into the house and grabbed a fleece throw off the back of the couch. He carried it outside with him and handed it to Kurt. "You're cold. Wrap up in this."

Kurt took the blanket and swung it around his shoulders. His eyes traveled up and down Blaine and widened. "What happened to you? You're covered in bruises and cuts, your chest..." He cut off as pink heat flooded his face.

Blaine fought back the need to grab the blanket wrapped around Kurt's shoulders and pull him to himself, then strip him bare so that he wore only his witch shimmer and moonlight. He stepped out on the porch and closed the door quietly behind him. "I'm fine. The wound will close back up and everything will heal," he said tightly.

"Here, let me..." Kurt said, reaching out to touch his arm.

Blaine stepped back and moved to the edge of the porch. "No," he said, ignoring the quick flash of hurt on Kurt's face. He would lose it if Kurt touched him with his powers. He had been too close to witch blood already tonight and was too on edge. He could feel the need for Kurt's blood rising. "What do you need to do?"

"I'm going to the edge of the lake," Kurt said. He paused again at the top of the steps. "Did you find out anything tonight?"

"We have the names of five demon witches. We have to determine if one of them had a daughter killed at the time Sammy was cursed," Blaine said, not taking his eyes off Kurt.

Kurt nodded. "But you'll give me five more days, won't you? Before you go after her?"

"As long as I can," Blaine answered him. Was Kurt worried about him losing his soul? Or was he worried about being killed if Blaine went rogue?

Kurt turned and made his way down the stairs. He walked towards the lake, the blanket draped over his shoulders swaying with his movement.

Blaine swallowed hard. He wanted his arms around Kurt, not that damned blanket. If he only had a short time left as a man with a soul, why didn't he just take him? Make love to him? For as long as he had his soul, he would stick his knife into his own heart before he would cut Kurt. His gut tightened and his chest felt hollow. He wanted Kurt, needed him in a way he couldn't understand. Maybe he had just gone too long without feeding the sex part of the curse. He had been too close to witch blood that night, and he could feel that burn hovering along his skin–begging, threatening, always promising ecstasy and relief.

But it was a soul shattering lie.

Blaine watched Kurt as he stopped at the edge of the water. Kurt stood quietly, barely moving. Then he stretched up, allowing the blanket to slide down and pool at his feet on the shore. He tilted his head back to angle his face towards the moon and extended his arms out to his sides. Curving his body back in a graceful arc, he closed his eyes and gave himself to the moon; to the night.

Blaine sucked in his breath. Kurt's beauty shimmered with heat. His silver necklace reflected the pure light of the moon so that it appeared to be only moonlight weaving a pattern on his skin. His chest rose and fell, his breathing slow and steady. The moment was so personal Blaine felt as though he was intruding.

He couldn't look away.

Kurt spoke in a low voice, the pitch of it rolling over Blaine like a caress. Kurt arched his back even further, giving himself over completely. He breathed in deeply and Blaine could _feel_ his power surge. It unfurled and wrapped around him, strong enough to send ripples across the dark reflective surface of the lake.

Blaine surged to his feet, unable to stop himself. And he didn't want to. Kurt's power, his sexuality, his very center called to Blaine and demanded he answer. _Now_.

Blaine felt the wings on his back flutter beneath his skin. Animal and hunter instinct took over and he faded into the night, moving stealthily down the stairs and across the way until he stood in front of Kurt. He breathed in the scent of him, the powerfully sweet vanilla spice now filled with smell of exaltation and the moon. He put his hands on Kurt's waist.

Kurt opened his eyes slowly. His pupils were dilated so that only a trace of blue was visible. His nipples had hardened and were visible through the thin cotton of his tank top. Blaine could smell the musky cinnamon scent of his desire, his need. His rising power had filled his body and now pulsed inside him, a living thing.

"My fifth chakra opened. I begged the Ancestors to grant me an animal to help me do spell magic and focus my power," Kurt whispered as his body shuddered beneath Blaine's hands.

Blaine felt a wave of energy move through Kurt. He felt it as though it was his own. As though he was connecting to Kurt, as if unseen parts of their separate beings were fusing into one. With it came a sense of hope, real and true hope.

Kurt's eyes widened. "I can't control it," he gasped.

Blaine was struck by how he had deprived Kurt of what he needed, locking him on the lower floor and away from the elements. He was an earth witch. He needed the earth. Now he was on overload as his power surged and unfurled and soaked up the earth through his chakras. Blaine felt his own body respond, going hard and reaching with an instinct stronger than any he'd ever felt–stronger, even, than bloodlust. It was a drive to lock up the connection between them.

"Don't try to," Blaine said. "Let the power have you."

He wanted Kurt drenched in power, steeped in it. Then he wanted to taste that power, touch it, feel it, and finally sink himself into it while wrapping his arms around Kurt and holding him as he gave himself to the power, and to him.

Kurt shook his head, the movement nearly frantic. "You don't understand," he said. He reached down to the hem of his tank top and pulled it away from his body with unsteady hands.

Oh, but Blaine _did_ understand. He slipped his hands to Kurt's waist and pulled the shirt up and off.

"You need to be free. You need to breathe in the night, feel the moonlight on your skin. You need to feel my touch." He dropped the shirt and saw he was right. Kurt's skin was nearly translucent with its silver glow. His pink nipples were pebbled and hard and his erect cock strained against the material of his briefs. Blaine raised both hands and ran his thumbs lightly over each nipple.

Kurt arched as a low sound of pleasure escaped him. Blaine lowered his mouth to one hard nipple and dragged his tongue over it, swirling around and flicking it before gently sucking it. Kurt gasped and clutched at Blaine's shoulders for a moment before moving down to pluck at the waistband of his briefs.

"Blaine," he breathed.

Blaine answered by letting go and dropping to his knees. He gently pushed away Kurt's fretful hands and pulled the briefs down, exposing Kurt to the moonlight. And to him. The scent of Kurt's desire was stronger now and hit him first, spicy and tantalizing. He could see the muscles in Kurt's thighs flex as he shifted. His cock was hard and proud, flushed and jutting forward enticingly. The moonlight shimmered on him, illuminating the precome already beaded at the tip.

Grasping Kurt's cock at the base, Blaine stroked up and swiped his thumb over the tip before swirling it lightly around the head, gathering the moisture and smearing it around. Kurt shuddered and made a throaty noise that sank into Blaine's very bones.

He leaned forward to touch his tongue lightly to Kurt's cock. Kurt thrust his hips forward and Blaine moved to accommodate him. A taste wasn't enough, not nearly enough. He ran his tongue up from base to tip and then opened his mouth a little wider, sucking in the head to tease it with his tongue before pressing forward. He drew back slowly and then pressed forward again until he felt the press of warm skin against his nose.

Kurt made a strangled noise of pleasure as he felt his cock press against the back of Blaine's throat. He tossed his head back and panted for breath while he struggled to remain upright in face of the dual sensation of his power unleashing and the moist heat of Blaine's mouth. His shaking hands tangled in Blaine's curls and a moan vibrated low in his throat when Blaine drew back and ran his tongue lightly across the slit before again taking him deep.

Blaine increased his pace with Kurt's movements and cries. He wrapped one hand around Kurt's cock and held him close with the other on his hip. He wanted to be filled with his scent, with his flesh. _More_. He stroked Kurt firmly as he continued to lick and suck at him, then slipped his hand down to cup his balls gently. He rubbed at them softly for a moment before moving further, sliding his fingers back until they found the heat of his hole. He stroked over it lightly, feeling the heat and clench of it. He felt Kurt's hands move to grab his shoulders, the fingers digging in as Kurt's hips began to move faster.

"Blaine! I'm going to...I can't..." Kurt gasped.

Blaine moved his hand away from its teasing of Kurt's hole to capture both of his hips and hold him in place, a silent indication that he should let go. His mouth and tongue teased and sucked, encouraging Kurt to come. Blaine hummed low in the back of his throat and the sensation around his cock was too much for Kurt. He tossed his head back and keened out his pleasure as he came in hot spurts, Blaine capturing all of it. Kurt's legs shook and nearly folded underneath him, and he would have collapsed had Blaine not risen and caught him in his arms.

Kurt tasted himself when Blaine slammed their mouths together. Blaine's tongue probed deeply as his arms held Kurt close. Kurt could feel Blaine's tightly leashed lust pounding at him, could feel his erection thick and hard against him.

Another wave of pure energy undulated from his center outward. It pulsed hard enough to make him shiver. Blaine had licked and sucked him to a mind shattering orgasm, but it wasn't enough. It wouldn't be enough until he had Blaine inside him. Already Kurt could feel himself hardening again. He had never felt these waves of agonized want before. His skin prickled with it, demanded it. It felt like he was splitting apart into a thousand pieces and needed Blaine to fill him and seal his soul inside his body.

Kurt broke their kiss with a growl of frustration.

Blaine's hazel eyes flared in the moonlight. As if knowing exactly what Kurt needed, he grabbed the soft blanket and spread it on the earth. Kurt allowed him to gently lay him down on it. Blaine then stood and stripped off his jeans. Kurt caught his breath. Blaine was magnificent. Moonlight glistened on the light dusting of hair that covered his chest. His bronzed skin rippled down his muscular stomach and then paled slightly at his hips. His erect cock rose from a nest of dark curls.

Huge. Like the man himself. He was beautiful in an untamed way. Kurt knew he would fill him, make the unbearable wanting stop. He looked up into Blaine's eyes. Blaine watched him, his gaze sliding sensuously down his body and back up to his face. Magic and danger crackled and danced in the air between them.

Another uncontrolled roll of power surged through Kurt, forcing his body to arch, hips thrusting forward and thighs falling open. He didn't know what this was, but it felt as though it was sweeping him away in to a swirling whirlpool of sensation. Whatever it was, he wanted to surrender to its claim. He raised his arms to Blaine.

"Please," he begged, beckoning him closer.

Blaine shivered once and dropped to his knees. He reached for the jeans he had tossed aside and pulled his wallet out to get the packet of lubricant he always kept in it. He tossed both the jeans and his wallet aside and tore the corner of the pouch of lube, squeezing it in his hand and liberally coating his fingers. He settled himself between Kurt's legs, lifting one slightly to run his slick fingers between the cheeks of Kurt's ass and coat the crack with lube.

"You'll take all of me," Blaine whispered. Kurt wasn't sure what he meant, but then Blaine circled the tight pucker of his hole teasingly with a slick finger before pushing in, slow and deep. And then deeper.

Kurt sucked in a breath and moaned at the pleasurable sensation. "Yes," he agreed, willing to give him anything, "I'll take it all." He knew the emotional pain would come with Blaine's release, knew that it would nearly smother him with the weight of it, but at that moment he didn't care. He just wanted to feel Blaine moving inside him.

Blaine worked his finger back and forth a few more times before readying a second finger.

"Ready for more?" he asked, his voice a low and sexy growl.

"Yes, _more_, Blaine, I need more," Kurt whispered, pressing back and fucking himself on Blaine's fingers. Blaine did growl at that point, the sight of his fingers slipping easily in and out of Kurt's tight asshole under the moonlight being almost too much for him. He stretched his fingers apart a few times and added a third finger as soon as he could. He thought briefly that he should really try to see if Kurt could take a fourth finger to be sure he could accommodate Blaine's size, but he couldn't wait anymore. He was on fire with the need to be inside of Kurt.

Blaine knelt between Kurt's spread thighs. He squeezed the remaining lube from the packet and stroked his hard cock to coat it. He circled the head of his cock teasingly around the rim of Kurt's stretched hole before guiding himself in slowly.

Kurt spread his legs wider and lifted his hips to better accept him, wrapping his legs around Blaine's hips.

"Easy," Blaine growled. The muscles in his back and shoulders bunched and the tendons in his neck were corded with what little control he had left.

Hot tears of need rose in Kurt's eyes and made his voice thick. "But you said I wouldn't have to hold back with you." He wanted...well, he didn't know, but he had to have it. _All of it_.

Blaine's golden eyes softened with a flutter of wings that disappeared as quickly as it came. "Not holding back, sweet witch. You're tight, but Christ, you're opening up for me."

His voice trailed off into a groan as he gave a hard thrust. And then thrust again, even deeper.

And again. This time so deep Kurt's body clenched and a powerful wave of witch energy rippled with the pleasure.

Blaine shuddered and lowered his face to Kurt's. "Touch my hawk," he panted as his hips continued to move.

Oh, _God_, how Kurt wanted to. He slid his hands over Blaine's shoulders to the winged tattoo. The feathers felt warm and soft, and Kurt swore they lifted to his touch.

Blaine slammed his mouth to Kurt's, licking hungrily at his lips and sucking on his tongue while he pumped his cock into him. Harder. Deeper. Kurt felt sensations pounding him and he curled his fingers into the feathers, holding on as he soared higher and higher. Energy snapped and crackled as his powers swelled and heated and his soul rose to touch Blaine's. He needed to feel Blaine, needed to feel the man and the hawk, needed to merge their souls.

"Blaine!" he gasped as his body arched with power again.

Blaine reared up on his hands to look down at Kurt. His powerful shoulders gleamed with sweat. He leaned on one elbow and took Kurt's hard cock in the other hand. He stroked in rhythm with his thrusts. His eyes were clear and golden, and then they filled with the wings of his hawk.

"Take what you need, Kurt. Take it all." His words were gentle, but his thrusts were hard enough to slap his balls against Kurt's ass.

The feel of Blaine pounding into him, out of control for him, was too much for Kurt. He dug his heels into Blaine's lower back as he drove them both towards the edge, and his eyes rolled back into his head when he came hard and hot between them. He felt Blaine thrust a few more times and then shout as his own release exploded.

Kurt wrapped his body around Blaine's as a sense of contentment and unity replaced the burning need. The more Blaine released inside him, the more Kurt felt himself calm. The twitching and pulsing of his powers eased and settled into a gentle simmer in his chakras. He felt the gentle touch of wings brush his skin. Blaine's heavy breath rustled his hair and tickled at his ear. He could feel Blaine's chest pounding against his own. Blaine's emotions were a steady stream of pleasure and triumph. And relief. Relief that he hadn't hurt him. That he hadn't lost control and gone for his blood.

Then suddenly the stream went icy with doubt and mistrust. _What had Kurt done to him? He had gone to him as though he'd pulled the strings that controlled him. A witch. He'd just fucked a witch._

Kurt squeezed his eyes closed, trying to block out the suspicion building in Blaine. The truth of his feelings. The mistrust. Kurt knew that Blaine's self control was how he defined himself, and he had lost that control with him.

Kurt nearly snorted. _Like **he'd** actually been in any sort of control?_

But it hurt to realize he scared Blaine. No matter what Blaine said, Kurt knew he frightened him. He didn't trust him. Kurt felt his chakras close off as they retreated from his pain.

Then he felt a sensation of wings sweeping around him, their presence comforting. What was it? Blaine's hawk wings? He had felt them as vividly as he had felt Blaine's body pressed against him. Was it real, or was his mind playing with him?

Blaine moved suddenly, pulling out of him and jumping to his feet, causing him to gasp at the loss of fullness. Kurt fought to keep from reacting to Blaine's rejection even as he felt it squeeze his heart.

Blaine looked down at him.

"Get dressed. Someone's coming," he commanded. He snatched up his jeans and stepped into them, his movements blindingly fast.

Kurt didn't hear anything, but Blaine's urgency washed over him. He grabbed his briefs and shimmied into them, then dragged his tank top over his head. He stood quickly, causing his head to swim and nearly losing his balance. Blaine quickly caught him.

"It's Finn," Blaine said.

Kurt immediately felt Blaine's tension ease and his suspicion scale back to a low, unconscious simmer. There was something strange about how clearly he was feeling Blaine. Normally he only got the fear and distrust, but this was more. He didn't have time to ponder it, though; right now he had to deal with his brother.

"There must be something wrong," he said.

He shrugged off Blaine's arm and turned to see Finn heading towards them. It wouldn't be hard to see them in the moonlight, as Finn clearly had. He had on jeans and shoes, but no shirt, and his hair stuck out at wild angles. The closer he got the clearer Kurt could see the hunch of irritation in his shoulders.

"What's wrong, Finn? Is Quinn okay?" Kurt asked.

Finns brown eyes narrowed on him. "It's that damned cat. It started yowling about five minutes ago. It woke me up, and when I looked in on Quinn she was awake, too. I went to your room. Obviously, you weren't there."

"Obviously," Kurt agreed, ignoring Finn's pointed words as a wave of excitement washed over him. Hope and anticipation filled him. That cat was the only link he had to his mother and her powers. "I'll go-"

Finn caught his arm and pulled him closer to him. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice serious.

Kurt lifted his chin and made himself look Finn in the eye. "I'm fine."

He wouldn't explain any further, not that he could. Kurt knew it was just sex. Blaine had reacted to him because of his mega sex drive, but it had meant something to _him_. Blaine had accepted him, told him not to fight his powers and made him feel safe and comfortable enough to expose himself physically and emotionally.

And then Blaine had been suspicious of him. Like he had somehow tricked him and used him. But Blaine was the one who had come to him!

_Stupid witch_, Kurt thought to himself. It choked him, but he swallowed it back. He had other things to focus on at the moment.

* * *

**TBC**

**ittlebitz . tumblr . com**


	7. Suspicions and Trepidations

**Title:** Hot Under My Skin

**Author:** Ittlebitz

**Pairing:** Kurt/Blaine

**Rating:** NC-17 over all, PG-ish this chapter, I guess?

**Warnings for this** **chapter:** language, descriptions of past violence, talk of sexual situations

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. I don't own Glee or any of its characters. I would own this Blaine in a minute if I could. I own a copy of the book Blood Magic.

**Author's Note: **All my love to by bestie/beta Sam for her incredible beta skills and cheerleading efforts.

* * *

"Let me go, Finn. I need to go see the cat."

Kurt desperately wanted a connection to who he was, to his mother-_needed_ it now more than ever.

Finn was still scowling. "I swear to God, Kurt, if he hurt you..."

Kurt felt Blaine's presence with that strange feather touch, even though Blaine wasn't touching him at all. But Blaine didn't say anything. Kurt kept his gaze leveled on Finn.

"He didn't." Kurt had wanted Blaine, _craved_ him, and he wouldn't deny it now. "I'm fine."

Finn hesitated for a moment, but finally gave in. He nodded and let it go, but not before glaring at Blaine.

Kurt rushed into the house. As soon as he opened the stairway door hidden in the pantry, he could hear the screeching wails of a cat caterwauling. He cringed and rubbed his arms to dispel the goosebumps that tried to come over him. He quickly made his way down the stairs and to his room. As soon as he walked in, he came to a sudden halt, nearly getting run over by Finn and Blaine who had followed right behind him and were both pushing in an effort to get in before the other.

The cat stood on the silver box. Its hair was on end and it stared at him with wild eyes.

"Tell me what to do," whispered Kurt.

The cat continued to stare at him.

With hardly any effort, Kurt felt his chakras open all the way to his fifth. But his powers popped and fizzed with agitation as though they had no focus. The tile floor was frigid under his bare feet and Kurt shivered with cold, realizing he was still only in his underwear. A soft scent of sandalwood swirled around him, then warmth encircled his shoulders and he started in surprise when he realized Blaine had taken the blanket from the bed and wrapped it around him.

"Thank you," Kurt said quietly, looking into Blaine's eyes.

Blaine shrugged nonchalantly.

Kurt turned back to the tapestry. "How do I-" he began, but his words faded and he blinked twice as the tapestry threads shimmered brighter than ever. They were so bright that they slipped from their tapestry form to circle in the lake in a swirl of colors. Kurt stumbled clumsily, growing dizzy as he tried to make out the threads.

A heavy arm moved around his shoulders in support. Suddenly everything slid away. The floor, the walls, all was gone except for Blaine and the tapestry.

A shape began to appear on the surface of the tapestry lake and Kurt heard himself gasp as the shape of a woman formed. Just the outline at first, but bit by bit she became a solid figure on the water.

Recognition sucked Kurt's breath away. He had dreamed of this moment all his life. And now, looking at the woman with thick chestnut hair and blue eyes that swirled with the colors of the elements stood before him. Her fair face had a slight smattering of freckles and her full lips were pink and smiling gently.

"You're my mother." Kurt wasn't sure if he thought or spoke the words.

"Yes. My name is Elizabeth Fairchild. I have been waiting so long for this day to come. I have only a short time to speak to you before I must go."

"What do you mean, go? I only just found you!" Kurt's jumbled thoughts twisted as he tried to make sense of everything. Was the image real? Or could it be a projection like Tina's Elvira avatar? What if it was someone tricking him?

"Kurt," Elizabeth said softly, the single word echoing a devastating mix of love and regret.

Kurt slipped further, no longer able to feel the cold tile or the blanket around his shoulders. All he could feel was the weight of Blaine's arm and the new grief that was slowly washing over him. He swallowed hard before whispering brokenly, "You're not alive, are you."

Elizabeth's face was sorrowful. "No, my love. I _never_ wanted to leave you, Kurt. Please believe me, I fought to live. I ran away and hid with you, but I had a vision. I knew I wouldn't survive, but I could give you a chance if I put you with a mortal. Burt Hummel had been very kind to me and I knew he would take care of you."

Kurt felt his chest grow tighter and his lungs constrict. It hurt to breathe. It hurt to feel. Elizabeth looked so real, as though he could reach out and touch her. "What are you now?"

Elizabeth smiled gently. "Magic has been holding my spirit in the image of the tapestry cat. Now I have this one chance to tell you how very much I love you, how much I have _always_ loved you, and how I will continue to love you even once I cross over to Gort Na Gréine."

Kurt closed his eyes and trembled as the loneliness and anguished longing for his mother threatened to overwhelm him. His throat ached and a single tear escaped down his cheek. He was still alone.

And yet, suddenly, he felt wings fold around him to hold him close and secure; just as they always had when he'd been a frightened boy locked in a dark closet. It gave him the strength to continue on. He had only this one chance to talk to his mother. He opened his eyes and saw that Elizabeth was crying. Tears rolled down her cheeks to fall into the lake, causing the magic threads to ripple.

"You did this for me? Bound yourself to a tapestry all these years?" Kurt asked quietly.

"Time is nothing to me now, my love. I got to watch you grow up, and I thank the Ancestors for that. You are all I ever hoped for and more. I am so very proud of you." The colors of the tapestry darkened as Elizabeth's eyes flashed steel. "If I had been able, I would have killed the man who was your grandfather. It was an effort not to attack that ignorant fool, but I was afraid it might take too much of the magic I had left."

Kurt sniffled but managed a small smile. Someone had been there and had protected him as best they could. "You attacked Blaine and Finn."

"The witch hunter? I thought he was taking me from you, not to you. He had already been here once. I was terrified he would kill you. I know that Finn loves you, but he is a mortal. I was afraid he was being controlled by the hunter," Elizabeth explained.

"All those years, you really _were_ with me. I remember hearing a voice singing to me when I was a boy. And I used to talk to the tapestry..." Kurt trailed off. He had a mother who _loved_ him, who had been there for him the only way she could.

"I heard you. When I wove the tapestry I wove some songs into the magic to play for you when you were alone. It was something I could give you."

Kurt nodded. It all made sense now that he knew he was a witch and that magic existed. "What about the voices I hear in my head?"

Elizabeth's smile was full of maternal pride. "The Ancestors. They were shocked that you could hear them. Their voices receded as you got older and struggled to repress your magic in order to survive living with that horrible man, yet sometimes you still heard them. You are our hope, Kurt."

Kurt could feel time slipping by, felt the threat of his mother leaving him forever even though he'd only just found her. "How long do you have? Why are you here now?"

"I don't know how long, but I have so much to tell you. As to why now, you have opened your fifth chakra. That is your communication beyond the mortal realm, and your power surged enough to release me," Elizabeth explained.

Kurt felt his cheeks burn slightly, remembering very well just _how_ his powers had surged and what caused it. "I tried to call for a familiar," he said softly.

Elizabeth's eyes turned wary. "And did your familiar come to you?"

"No," Kurt answered, "not yet. How long does it usually take for it to appear?"

"It's complicated. Before the curse, it might be an hour or a day, depending on how far the familiar had to travel to get to you. But for you to understand how complicated things are and why you represent the hope of the witches, you need to know what happened to me."

Kurt felt his throat clench and his mouth go dry. "How did you die?"

"I was murdered."

Kurt nearly swayed but refused to let go of the magic holding him to his mother. "Rogues?"

"Yes. Sweetheart, I don't remember dying. But I remember fighting to live, to stay in that life with you. I would never have left you willingly, I swear it. We are witches. We have several lifetimes to live and learn. Our death is merely a time of rest until we choose to reincarnate. Or we can choose to become an Ancestor and cross to Gort Na Gréine."

It was a small comfort to Kurt, but he knew it was time for him to listen. He took a deep breath and said, "Tell me what happened."

Elizabeth nodded. "I thought I knew a way to break the curse-for both witches and hunters. I was there when it happened. I had been one of the ones who alerted the hunters' leader, the hawk. Demon witches were wreaking havoc all over. There were killings, families being torn apart, it was awful. Earth witches were finally able to track the spells back to a coven of demon witches. We had to open our sixth chakra and use our third eye to see what they were doing." She raised her hand to the center of her forehead. "The third eye is here. When you open it, regular sight leaves you and the third eye 'sees.' Once you learn to control it, you can have visions with it. It will show you what you summon, and before the curse it was how we spoke to our Ancestors."

"That's how you found the demon witches?" asked Kurt.

"Yes," Elizabeth answered him. "We found where they were hiding and called the hunters to help us."

"And they did?"

"Yes. Three hunters were sent. They traveled separately and the demon witches found out they were coming. They used a glamour to appear as young mortal women and seduced one of the hunters. The hunter didn't check to see if they were demon witches first, and when he had sex with them, he was captured. The other two hunters tried to rescue him, but ended up captured as well. They were held in a cave until the full moon that night. Our powers are always stronger where two earth forces meet, such as where the ocean meets the shore. These are known as ley lines, and our familiars help us control and focus the power we pull through our chakras there. When the moon faces the earth fully during the full moon, that gives us extra power as well," Elizabeth explained.

"So the demon witches needed the extra power of the full moon," Kurt said thoughtfully.

"Exactly." Elizabeth beamed proudly at him. "The demon witches conjured a magical barrier to keep us out. In order to break the shield, earth witches had to open their chakras all the way to the seventh... And very few can do that."

Pride filled Kurt's heart. "You could do it, though, couldn't you."

Elizabeth smiled again. "Yes. I saw the demon Asmodeus. He is the demon of lust, jealousy and revenge. He has the ability to make men perform cruel acts and is the cause of trouble in relationships. His powers are tied to the earth and this makes him vulnerable to other demons who can enslave him. So he has to gain as much power as possible to prevent this from happening, and his powers grow in proportion to the amount of misery he causes on earth. It was his bidding the demon witches were doing that night."

"How did you get into the cave?" questioned Kurt.

"We knew we had to outthink the demon and his witches. That's why it was so important to achieve the knowledge chakra. Now that we knew which demon we were dealing with we could discover his weakness. He uses lechery, jealousy, anger and revenge to stir up trouble and misery on earth, so we set up a circle of love with a ceremony of physical and emotional bonding," Elizabeth said.

"You mean sex?" Kurt blurted out.

"Sex is a powerful force and a symbol of love. It can also be perverted by evil with rape and degradation. Asmodeus thrives on damaging, degrading, meaningless sex. We chose a witch and a hunter that had true love between them and created a beautiful ceremony. The body is just a symbol; the emotion is what is real. We pulled the love in through our chakras and with the assistance of our familiars broke through the barrier blocking the cave." Elizabeth stopped speaking and closed her eyes for a moment, then continued.

"We broke the barrier at moonrise. All the witches and hunters burst into the cave, and that's when everything went horribly wrong. We realized too late that Asmodeus had set us up. He _wanted_ us there at the precise moment the demon witches cast the curse. When we entered the cave, the curse tore out our souls and tried to bind them together. We quickly cast a spell to reclaim our souls, but then Asmodeus appeared and sealed the curse with fire. Our souls returned to us, but now they were damaged and no longer whole."

Kurt's stomach clenched. He didn't want to think of something so horrible. "But you know how to fix this? How to break the curse?"

Elizabeth's blue eyes dulled with her grief. "We stopped the demon witches from binding the hunters' souls to themselves, but the wording of the curse left the hunters craving witch blood. A craving that drove them to killing madness. Bloodlust."

Kurt tried to keep up. "Okay, then where _did_ the souls bind?"

"That's my smart boy," said Elizabeth, gazing proudly at him. "I have a theory that when our souls were out of our bodies, witch souls bonded with hunter souls. Then the souls were halved to return to the respective body. This made us soul mirrors; each a half of a whole."

"But how do we fix this? You said I'm the hope, and I don't understand how that's possible. I didn't even know I was a witch until a few days ago," Kurt said.

His mother's eyes were reflective. "I spent a year meditating on this, and I think there's a loophole to the curse. I believed that if we found our soul mirror and bonded, our souls became whole again. Obviously it was dangerous. Hunters were killing witches for the power in their blood. So in order to protect myself, I had to create a powerful charm to shield my powers from hunters so they couldn't smell the power in my blood and be driven to kill me."

Kurt was startled. "Are you kidding? We can do that? But it's perfect! We can protect ourselves and-"

Regret filled Elizabeth's eyes. "No. It doesn't work that way. It doesn't work for long. I called my soul mirror to me by the light of the moon, just as I would call my familiar. And he came to me. He was handsome, but..." she paused with a shiver. "He had already gone rogue. He didn't know I was a witch. But our connection was strong, powerful; so powerful that we had sex."

Kurt's eyes widened with shock. "But-"

"I know it sounds crazy. But once I put things in motion by calling, I couldn't stop it. Sex was part of it. Before the curse, sex wasn't a part of calling a familiar. But this wasn't a familiar, it was a soul mirror. And sex was a part of the curse, right?"

Kurt nodded. It was all so complicated.

"The charm broke as we climaxed. He was furious, jumping up and drawing his knife. But he hesitated," Elizabeth began.

"Because your souls had bonded?" Kurt asked.

Elizabeth shook her head. "No, sweetheart. He had already lost his soul by that time. But a part of him, I guess, recognized me as a part of himself. His hesitation let me use a sleeping charm I had stored in an amulet just in case. He dropped to a heavy sleep and I ran."

Kurt felt disappointed. "But it didn't change anything. It didn't work."

Elizabeth's smile was soft. "One thing _was_ changed. You were conceived."

Kurt nearly staggered in shock. _His father was a rogue witch hunter._ Was that the evil his grandfather always said he had in him? His mother's words brought him back.

"From the moment I knew I was pregnant, I loved you, Kurt. Something of me got in your father and he couldn't stay away from me. He was relentless in tracking me. And once he found out I was pregnant, he was furious. He believed I had tricked him to get pregnant with you. He was desperate to kill us both. He had been tricked before, you see."

Kurt felt the blood roaring in his ears. _His father wanted to kill him_. It made his stomach churn and his head swim. "Tricked how?"

Elizabeth's face was sad. "He was the hunter tricked and captured by the demon witches."

"And he blames all witches," concluded Kurt. Just as Blaine would blame him if he turned out to be his soul mirror, he thought anxiously, feeling his stomach clench. Blaine would believe he'd tricked him. He was already suspicious that Kurt had done something to him.

"Yes. He couldn't stand it. I knew he would never give up, and when I had the vision, I put you with Burt Hummel. I kept running, and I hoped that I would find a way to live, that I would return to you one day. But he found me." Elizabeth nodded at Kurt's unspoken question. "He killed me. My last thought was that you would be safe. At least for a while. I wouldn't tell him where you were, no matter what he did."

"Oh, Elizabeth. _Mom_," Kurt whispered sadly.

Her tearful smile was luminous. "Thank you for that, Kurt. Hearing you call me Mom...thank you."

Kurt blinked back his own tears. "How can I lose you now when I've only just now found you?"

"You never lost me. I've always been with you and that will never change. I am choosing to stay in Gort Na Gréine as an Ancestor, rather than reincarnating. I will always hear you, and you'll always know I'm there."

Kurt wanted more. He wanted his mother here with him, but she had loved him enough to die in order to keep him safe. "Thank you," he said quietly.

"I leave to you my spells and those from my family before me. This is my legacy to you. And I hope you are able to find a way to help that child."

"You know about Sammy, then?" Kurt asked.

"Yes." Elizabeth's face was determined. "How can I help you?"

Kurt needed to learn all he could. "Blaine says I only have until the waxing gibbous moon to spell the curse off her."

"And he's right. A death curse fills its victim with suffocating darkness. Fever, headaches and nightmares take over. More dark threads grow each day and the death mark darkens as the threads grow and multiply. Before the waxing gibbous moon, the threads are unorganized. We can draw them out with a high magic spell. But once the moon phase passes, the threads meld and form a bond to the demon witch."

Kurt felt the weight of the world on his shoulders. He had to succeed at this. "What happens if I don't break the curse before then?"

Elizabeth bowed her head. "Under the full moon the demon witch will finish the curse. The threads will slowly strangle the victim from the inside. Only killing the demon witch between the waxing gibbous and full moon will prevent the curse from happening."

But if Blaine killed the demon witch, he would lose his soul. Kurt knew he _had_ to figure something out. "But what if my familiar doesn't show up? Can I still break the curse without one?"

"Maybe your familiar already has," Elizabeth replied softly. "Or it may still show up. You are a witch with a witch hunter father. You may be the one to break the curse and get a familiar. Or maybe you'll do it another way. Maybe by a soul mirror."

"You don't know the future?" Kurt asked her.

"No. But I believe in you, Kurt." The water in the tapestry rippled and the brilliant colors that made the image of Elizabeth began to fade. "My time is running out, my love. I have to tell you the name of your father."

Kurt hadn't expected that. "Who is it?" he asked. His heart crumbled as his mother faded from his sight. Her final words carried to him like a whisper on the wind.

_"Alistair Young."_

* * *

Blaine felt Kurt's magic flowing through him in a continuous stream, swirling and churning in his guts.

And then suddenly it stopped.

For nearly an hour Kurt had stared at the tapestry. And Blaine had been able to hear him talking _inside his own head_. That was some weird shit. He figured he was hearing Kurt's side of a conversation with his biological mother. He could only assume it was because he had touched his blood. Or maybe it was because they'd had sex. But somehow he had been pulled into Kurt's part of the conversation.

Finn stepped tentatively towards Kurt. "You were crying. Just staring at the tapestry and crying. I was talking to you and you couldn't hear me."

Blaine was still trying to sort everything he had learned from hearing Kurt's part of the conversation. Kurt's mom was dead and had been murdered. She may have known how to break the curse. Talk of familiars and curses and Sammy.

All of it fed the dark suspicions in Blaine's mind. Why could Kurt talk to the tapestry _now_? Why had he been able to feel his powers and hear him talking? What had Kurt done to him?

Kurt moved out from under Blaine's arm and walked over to the bed. He sat down and pulled the blanket around himself. He looked up at Finn with eyes that had turned gray with deep grief. "I saw my mother. She's dead and it was my father that killed her."

Blaine felt a prickle along his back and swore his hawk was trying to reach Kurt and comfort him. He watched instead as Finn sat down next to Kurt and put his arm around him comfortingly.

"Shit, Kurt," Finn said.

Kurt gave his brother a wan smile. "You always know just what to say."

Finn squeezed his shoulders and drew him close to his chest. "It's part of my natural charm, you know," he teased, trying to lighten the situation.

Blaine leaned against the work table. There was nothing to be done about Kurt's parents or that his mother had been murdered by a rogue. "So you can access the spells in there now?"

Finn scowled at him. "Fuck's sake, Anderson, he's not a machine."

Kurt sat back up and stared at the tapestry with a troubled look on his face. "It'd be better if I had a familiar. Maybe it will show up soon."

Talking of familiars brought Damian's accusations back to Blaine. How had Kurt drawn him into his magic? Kurt's next words snapped him out of his thoughts.

"Who is Alistair Young?"

Blaine stiffened and his eyes flew to Kurt's pale face. "He's the rogue leader. The one organizing them and who's determined to wipe witches out of existence entirely. Why?"

A hysterical sounding burst of laughter escaped Kurt. "Well, I guess that explains why he wants me dead so badly."

Blaine's eyes narrowed. "What's going on?"

Kurt looked back to the tapestry and pulled the blanket tighter around himself.

"He's my father," he whispered.

Blaine felt his shoulders sag slightly. "Fucking hell," he muttered. Things just kept getting more complicated. Kurt's father was a rogue witch hunter. Was that the bond between them? Was that why Kurt could draw him into his magic? Or did that give Kurt the ability to use him to increase his magic? He needed to know more. "Did he know about you?"

"Yes. But my mom put me with mortals to hide me, and she wouldn't tell him where I was, even when he killed her."

Things were falling into place. "He wants to kill you. You're at the top of the kill list. Mike said you'd registered to find your birth parents. That's how he found you."

Kurt nodded absently. "Dad registered me before he died. All he put on there was my picture and my birthdate. But I saw my mother. I look like her. I have her coloring, her eyes."

Blaine pondered the idea. "He could easily have set something up on the sites. Something to flag your birthdate."

Kurt shrugged. "He would probably recognize me since I resemble my mom."

Blaine remembered Kurt telling him about seeing Damian at the cemetery. "He probably sent my dad to double check that you're a witch. It could have gone either way, probably. You could've just as easily been a hunter. That's why he didn't kill you at the cemetery. He wanted to report back to Young that you were a witch. I don't know of any witches adopted by mortals. Young would have known you were his."

Kurt didn't say anything.

"Why does he want to kill you so badly?" Blaine had to know.

Kurt was looking at the tapestry again. "He thinks my mother tricked him. She used a charm to shield her powers when they had sex. Then when the charm failed she still managed to get away. He believes she tricked him like the demon witches did to capture him."

Blaine frowned. An earth witch that could hide her powers? "The demon witches hid their powers with a glamour to appear as mortal women. Your mother had that sort of magic?"

Kurt bowed his head. "She said it was a charm she made. She was trying to break the curse and ended up paying with her life."

Was that really what she'd been doing? Blaine didn't know of any earth witches that could do that kind of magic. What had she really been up to? And Kurt had talked of familiars. "Was she trying to complete the curse? Bind Young to her as a familiar? Is that how she thought she would break the curse?"

Kurt's face went crimson and his witch shimmer darkened to nearly black with his fury. "_My mother was an earth witch!_" he snarled as his eyes glowed green in outrage. The room heated and filled with the scent of smoke. Candles melted into a waxy mess on the granite countertop. The lights flickered and the water faucets turned on and off. Kurt's rage twisted against Blaine's skin until it felt like the feathers of his hawk ruffled in sympathetic anger.

"Jesus, Kurt," Finn whispered in shock, looking around the room with wide eyes.

Blaine took in a deep breath. "Kurt, you didn't see her in real life, how can you possibly know-"

Kurt jumped up from the bed. "My mother _died_ protecting me," he spat furiously. "She could easily have turned to dark magic and saved herself. Then she could have fought back against Alistair Young. But she didn't. And don't you _DARE_ suggest anything different!" His blue eyes were ice cold as he glared at Blaine. "Get. _Out_."  
He stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door, the sound echoing through the room like a gunshot.

* * *

"Kurt, I need your help." Finn's urgent voice cut into Kurt's restless sleep.

Kurt sat up in bed and ran a hand through his messy hair, blinking his bleary eyes. "What? What is it?"

Finn stood near the foot of the bed. He had a worried frown on his face. "It's Quinn. She's locked herself in the bathroom, and nothing she's saying makes any sense."

Kurt shoved back the covers and stood, managing to suppress a wince at the touch of soreness from the previous night that had finally caught up to him. "What do you mean?"

"Can you please just hurry? I'm worried about her," Finn said in a rush as he turned and left the room.

Kurt hurried to catch up to him. He followed Finn down the hall and to another bedroom that had a full sized bed, a nightstand, a chest of drawers and a television on one wall. Finn motioned to the closed door on the opposite wall that led to the attached bathroom.

"What happened?" Kurt asked quietly.

"I heard her from my room. She was having a nightmare. I came in here and got her calmed down, and she went back to sleep. I guess I fell asleep, too, because when I woke up I could hear her talking to herself in the bathroom. She's locked the door and she won't come out-" Finn broke off and shuddered before grabbing Kurt by the shoulders and looking at him pleadingly. "Please open the door, Kurt! I'm afraid she's gonna hurt herself!"

Kurt nodded and Finn let go of him. He walked to the door and knocked gently on the door. "Quinn? Sweetheart, are you okay?"

"I have to protect him! Please, I have to...I...I can't remember-" Quinn's voice cracked on the other side of the door.

Kurt felt his heart break for her. He remembered when Quinn had been a confident teenager; sure that life would always be brilliant for her. Kurt had always envied her that, envied how she had always known where she would fit and what she would do. It had never been a question for Quinn; she had always just known she would be a lawyer, and the best damn one at that. The frightened young woman huddled inside the bathroom was a far cry from the self assured teen she had once been.

Kurt sighed sadly. Quinn didn't deserve any of this. "Quinn? I'm coming in, okay?"

"No! No, I won't let him! I can't...I won't...I had to run, but he'll find me. He'll find...why can't I _remember_?" Quinn's panicked voice rose and ended on a hysterical wail.

Finn stepped back. "Move out of the way, Kurt, I'll break down the damn door!"

Kurt shot him a withering look. "Or I could just open it."

He placed his hand on the doorknob and opened his lower chakras, focusing the power through his fingertips. When he heard the lock disengage, he quietly turned the doorknob and pushed the door open slowly.

Quinn sat on the floor, huddled with her arms around her knees and her back against the wall between the bathtub and the vanity. She wore an oversized dark blue t-shirt with red writing that made her look even smaller and lost. She flinched when Kurt stepped into the bathroom. "No, don't touch me," she moaned, "I won't let him...I won't let..." Her eyes slammed shut as her face contorted in pain and she put her forehead on her shaking knees. "God, please, I just don't know!"

Kurt felt pity welling up in him. What the hell had happened to her? He glanced out at Finn, who wore a look of mixed panic and confusion. He was useless. Kurt took a tentative step closer to Quinn, then another. He knelt quietly in front of her. "Quinn? Quinnie, who are you protecting?"

Quinn looked up at him. She was pale and her hair hung limply around her face. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. "I don't know," she whispered brokenly.

"Oh, sweetie." Kurt reached out to take her shaking hand. His chakras were open, so he would try to send her calming energy.

The backwash of emotion and images nearly caused his body to jerk in reaction. _Knives. Screams. Quinn begging someone to stop, God, the screams, and the blood. Pain, excruciating and razor sharp, slicing through skin. And then...Quinn standing in a bathroom holding something and looking terrified. Shaking and nauseated as she stared at what she held..._

The realization shocked Kurt out of the connection. He forced himself to breathe through the nausea and dizziness he felt. He had somehow managed to pull some of Quinn's memories.

And now he knew who it was Quinn was protecting, even if she didn't. But sweet Jesus, the things Quinn had suffered. It made Kurt feel sick to his stomach and he shuddered.

"Kurt? What did you do? I feel a little better, not so afraid," Quinn said, her voice sounding slightly stronger.

Kurt covered her hand that he still held with his other hand and rubbed it soothingly. "Just a little witchcraft. I sent you some positive, calming energy. And now you, my dear, need to get some rest. Drink some tea and see if you can eat something."

He needed to think, try to figure out what to do. Should he tell Quinn? Warn Finn? Finn, who was falling hard for Quinn. She made him feel alive and gave him a new purpose. That was real, true emotion and connection that was-

"I'm broken, Kurt," Quinn said sadly.

Her soft words pulled Kurt from his racing thoughts. His heart swelled with sympathy. He had gotten a glimpse of some of what Quinn had endured. She was one of the strongest people he'd ever known. "You're not broken, Quinn," he told her truthfully, "you're a fighter." He gave her a little smile. "A little cracked right now, maybe, but not broken. And not alone. You have me, and you have Finn. Do you hear me?"

Quinn's eyes glanced quickly towards Finn and then back to Kurt. "He's been nice to me."

Kurt nearly snorted. "Nice? Really? You think he feels sorry for you?"

Quinn looked down towards the floor. "He was always nice to you. Always protected you."

Kurt wondered how long Quinn had been alone, how long it had been since she'd had any faith in her own judgement. "Finn loved me. He still does. We're family. He wasn't always nice, Quinn. There were times he was downright mean. One day I'll tell you about the time I redecorated our room when he and his mom moved in with Dad and me. But he loves me and has stood by me. So, if he is choosing to help you, it's because he cares. Maybe as a friend, maybe as something more, but he cares. It's not just him being nice. You can count on that."

Kurt realized the truth in his words. He was beginning to understand that what Finn saw in Quinn wasn't that she was a weak woman in need of rescue, but a strong woman struggling to defy nearly impossible odds. His mind swirled with what he had seen. He wondered if he should tell Quinn now that she'd calmed down. What if he was wrong? And how had he seen those memories in the first place?

He let go of Quinn's hand and stood up. "I'm going to go talk to Tina. See if she-"

Finn groaned and slapped a hand to his forehead. "Of course! Tina! Why didn't I think of that?" He walked into the bathroom and reached down to take Quinn's hands and help her stand up.

Quinn looked thoughtful. "That's right. She's some sort of hypnotist. I had forgotten about that. Do you think she can help me?"

_Damn it_. He had been so caught off guard by the things he had seen and felt, he had blurted out Tina's name. Kurt felt the beginning of a headache building behind his eyes. "We'll talk about it later," he said as he left to go back to his room.

* * *

Blaine had managed a few hours of restless sleep. He had dreamed of making love with Kurt, of holding him, tasting him, of feeling whole. But the memory of Kurt's hurt expression and furious voice when he'd told him to leave had awakened him.

He padded softly down the stairs. Kurt was probably still asleep, and Blaine wouldn't wake him. He would just lay the iPod he held on the counter, along with the information detailing the account he'd set up for Kurt so that he could download whatever music he wanted.

_Because an iPod will make up for calling Kurt's mother a demon witch_, scolded his mind. Blaine grimaced, knowing damn well he would make anyone that said that about his mom pay in a painful way. He heard Kurt talking and hesitated outside the door.

"I don't know how to explain it. Quinn was terrified and not making any sense. I tried to send her calming energy, but I got a backlash of her memories. Her terror and the pain when her husband was torturing her."

Blaine could hear the frustration in Kurt's voice. Something had happened with Quinn? And who was Kurt talking to? Blaine shielded his presence so Kurt couldn't see him and slipped silently to the door. Kurt was sitting on the bed against the headboard with his long legs stretched out and the laptop in his lap.

The sight of him made Blaine want to scoop him up and carry him upstairs to his bed. He wanted to touch and taste all of him, the man and the witch.

The digitalized voice of Elvira shattered Blaine's fantasy and he listened carefully to her words. "All witches are sensitive to a degree. You have always felt people's emotions. And if you felt it strongly enough, any of your lower chakras could have opened. Fear, for example."

"Like when Karofsky attacked me," Kurt said, watching the screen.

"Yes. You did fear induced magic and attacked him with his own knife. Are you with me?"

Blaine kept listening. He wanted to know who Elvira was. Where had she come from, and why was she helping Kurt if all the witch loops refused? What if Elvira was a demon witch with her own agenda?

"So far," Kurt said. "I opened my chakras intentionally to send positive energy to Quinn. But why did I get images back?"

"There's always an exchange," Elvira explained. "Sending energy like that requires something to leave to make room. You love Quinn, her situation affects you emotionally. You may have been unconsciously looking for a way to help her."

Kurt's eyes were troubled. "Was what I saw real?"

"You saw and felt what Quinn saw and felt," confirmed Elvira.

"Can you help her? You work with brain damage cases," Kurt asked the image on the screen.

"I would need to see her in person. I don't work with this kind of damage much anymore, but I'll see if there's anything I can do. Have Finn bring her to me, but don't tell the hunters."

Kurt shook his head. "I won't. They don't know I know who you are."

Blaine clenched his jaw in anger. Kurt had lied to him. He knew who Elvira was all along.

"How do you know they won't follow Finn?" Elvira asked.

Blaine had had enough. He materialized and stalked into the room.

Kurt made a squawking noise as he jumped. "Blaine!" he yelped.

Blaine glared down at him. ''Who is the coward hiding behind the avatar, Kurt?"

Kurt's surprise was quickly giving way to outrage. "You were spying on me?"

"You lied to me! You said you didn't know who Elvira was!" shouted Blaine.

Elvira's voice boomed from the computer speaker. "Leave him alone, hunter! He was protecting me!"

Blaine stared at Kurt, unable to look away. He couldn't stop wanting him. Couldn't stop worrying about him. He had never before in his life felt more connected to a person as he had with Kurt last night. But Kurt had been lying to him all along, while his sister's life was on the line. Blaine felt like an idiot, coming down here with an iPod, wanting to give Kurt something that would make him happy. Wanting to see Kurt smile at him with those perfect lips and amazing eyes. He didn't know what the fuck he was doing or why this witch was turning him inside out. Silently, he dropped the iPod and paper with the account information on the bed and turned quickly to leave.

The door slammed and prevented him from leaving. Only his quick reflexes kept him from crashing into it. Kurt had closed the door before he could get out. Blaine turned and looked toward Kurt.

Kurt shoved the laptop to the side and picked up the iPod. He looked at it and stood up. "Blaine? What's this?"

Blaine started to feel even more foolish. He had saved Kurt's life, but had ripped him from everything he knew. He'd given Kurt an impossible deal; heal his sister and be protected from rogues during that time. But after that? Who would protect Kurt then? The skin of his tattoo shifted and pulled, and he wished he understood what the fuck _that_ was all about.

Kurt was still looking at him with those incredible eyes. Blaine didn't know what to say, so he stuck to the obvious. "It's an iPod. I set you up an account."

Kurt looked down at the iPod, then back to Blaine. "Why?"

Blaine felt helpless. He looked around the barren room and wondered why he hadn't at least put in a TV or something. Did Kurt have a favorite food he wanted? A drink he preferred? Had he ever even asked him?

Blaine shrugged, not knowing what else to say. "Finn said you used your iPod to help with the voices. If you want anything, I'll get it for you."

Kurt gave a harsh bark of disbelieving laughter. "Want?" He lifted his chin to look Blaine in the eyes. His own vivid blue eyes filled with raw vulnerability. "Damn it, what I want is your trust-at least enough to do what I need to do to take the curse off Sammy." His voice cracked and he looked away. The door opened with a wave of his hand. "I think you should leave. Go back to the world."

"Shit, Kurt." Blaine felt the pain, hurt and anger radiating off Kurt to slam into him. He couldn't _not_ touch him. He reached for Kurt, ignoring the vibrations of Kurt's magic that streamed through himself, and drew him close. The skin of his tattoo pulled and stretched as though the wings of his hawk wanted to hold Kurt as well. He felt Kurt relax slightly in his arms.

"I can feel the feathers of your hawk against my skin. It's like he's real and not a tattoo," Kurt said softly.

Blaine ran his hand lightly up the graceful curve of Kurt's neck to thread through his hair. "You've done something to him. Until you, he was just a tattoo. But now..." he trailed off.

Kurt pressed back against his hand to look up at him. "What do you mean?" he asked, strain and worry causing his shimmer to dull.

Blaine looked into his eyes. "My tattoo was supposed to be a raven. But it changed... changed into a hawk. Before the curse, if a tattoo changed to a hawk, it marked the hunter as a leader who could communicate with The Slayer."

Kurt's eyes widened and brightened with hope. "You can do that? You can talk to The Slayer?"

Blaine shook his head in frustration. "No. He hasn't given me the ring of immortality around my thumb, or impressed the wings into the handle of my knife."

"Has any other hunter had this happen since the curse?" Kurt stepped back away from Blaine and broke his hold. He set the iPod down on the counter and began pacing the room. "What happened to the hunters after the curse? To the men themselves, not just going rogue?"

Blaine had to focus to listen to what Kurt was saying instead of simply staring at his ass. The tight jeans he seemed to favor only served to accentuate the firm curves of his body and up the temperature of Blaine's. He needed to touch Kurt and keep touching him, so he caught him and pulled him towards the bed. Blaine sat down and pulled Kurt onto his lap.

"The tattoos of wings all faded or disappeared completely once hunter souls returned to their bodies after the curse," he said while internally cheering that Kurt had come so willingly. "The hunters became mortal. A lot of them were old, hundreds of years for some. They died within a few days. The younger ones were burdened with the curse."

Kurt placed a hand on Blaine's shoulder. "And no one could talk to The Slayer after that?"

Blaine shook his head. "The hawks were all older. Once their immortality was stripped, they died off quickly. So, no; that's one of the reasons the rogues insist He's dead."

"Who _is_ The Slayer, Blaine?" asked Kurt.

Blaine had one arm around Kurt's waist and the other hand idly caressing his firm thigh. "The Slayer Hunter is half demon, half god. His father was a lower sentinel god, and wanted nothing to do with him. His demon mother raised him in the underworld, and there it was discovered that The Slayer had powers of justice and protection that tied him to earth. The recognition of people on earth, the hunters, brought out his god-like powers. But in the underworld, his powers were weaker and he didn't fit in. And the fact that he grew to be the image of his god-father, who had rejected his demon mother, made it where she couldn't stand the sight of him. Eventually she threw him out of the underworld."

Kurt frowned. "But that's horrible! What did he do?"

"He didn't really have anywhere he could go, so he disguised himself as a human and lived on earth. Then one of the demons found out who he was and exposed him as a half demon to the witches. They did a banishing spell to force him from the earth," Blaine replied.

"Which demon did that?" Kurt asked him.

Blaine paused. "I...I don't know. I never asked. I just know The Slayer was banished from earth and the gods were even more annoyed with him. They thought he was meddling where he didn't belong. So, with nowhere to go, he wandered for centuries until he stumbled upon Gort Na Gréine, drawn by the light and beauty. It was a place filled with kind souls."

"Ancestors," breathed Kurt.

Blaine nodded. "But the souls were troubled. There were a small number of witches on earth summoning demons and causing destruction and chaos."

"And the earth witches were kept from retaliating by witch karma," guessed Kurt.

"Exactly. The Slayer had lived on earth and had loved it, had genuinely cared. This was his chance to create a true god position for himself, one no one could take from him. He made a deal with the Ancestors; He would create a race of witch hunters to work alongside the earth witches, for protection and justice. And in return, he wanted to live in Gort Na Gréine and call it home. Together, they would work for the good of the mortal people on earth. The Slayer called to himself the strongest men, gave them immortality, and branded them on their bodies and knives with his wing mark. We were our own race, born of hunter fathers and mortal mothers," Blaine said.

"But what happens when a hunter dies?" asked Kurt.

"As long as he had been fulfilling his duty, a hunter would go to Gort Na Gréine. But if he had screwed up, the soul had nowhere to go. No other gods or demons would accept The Slayer's men. So the dead hunter would become a shade. And witch hunters knew the deal. As long as they recognized The Slayer as their god, His powers were significant. It somehow created a loophole of sorts, and to renounce Him could be catastrophic, as it obviously was when Alistair Young did. It broke the communication hunters had with The Slayer, and that's why some believe he's dead," Blaine finished.

Kurt looked into Blaine's eyes. "He isn't dead if he's marked you with the hawk. He's trying to reach you, that's obvious. You have to figure out what he wants from you."

Blaine couldn't tear his eyes away. No man had ever affected him as much as Kurt did. Usually, he had sex and moved on. He never felt anything more than passing enjoyment and temporary relief from the curse. But sex with Kurt had turned into a hell of a lot more. Blaine felt connected to him on the very deepest level. In Kurt's blue eyes tinted with elemental golds and greens, Blaine could see the possibility that The Slayer had seen something worthy in him.

But then Damian's words sneaked into his mind. _Your little witch is finishing the curse, turning you into his familiar. Then he'll have all the power and all you'll be is witch-whipped_. Fuck. Blaine didn't believe that, but what was the deal with his tattoo and Kurt? "If I'm branded by The Slayer, then why does my tattoo react to you?"

Kurt's eyes narrowed and he tensed. "I'm only just learning to be a witch. How am I supposed to know that?"

Blaine couldn't let it go. "What exactly is Elvira teaching you?"

Kurt looked at him in disbelief and slid off his lap. He took a few steps away from him, then turned to face him. His witch shimmer had darkened again. "You think I did something to you," Kurt stated, not making it a question.

Blaine didn't have an answer for him. "I don't know."

Kurt turned away from him to stare at the tapestry. "You're just like all the rest. You're afraid of me. Maybe you're fighting it, but you are. You're like my grandfather, like the men I dated." He broke off and wrapped his arms around himself protectively. "God, I'm just so _stupid_! I was an idiot to have sex with you, to trust you."

Blaine could feel his hawk shuffling and fighting to get to Kurt, as though it was trying to free itself from his skin. He got up and turned Kurt back towards him so he could see his face. The raw pain he saw there tore him apart. "Trust goes both ways. You haven't told me everything, have you?"

Kurt took a deep breath. "I've told you what you need to know. I can't tell you who Elvira is. I just can't."

Blaine felt himself slump in defeat. He wasn't getting anywhere with Kurt. All these years of this fucking curse had created endless mistrust between witches and hunters. "Fine. So we don't trust each other." He ran his hands up Kurt's arms and gently cupped his cheeks with both of his hands, unable to stop touching him. "But there is one thing I am damned sure of. I am _not_ sorry about making love to you."

* * *

"Hey, what's up?" Wes asked as he walked up to Blaine. The steps of his work boot clad feet rang out on the cement floor of the warehouse next to the club.

Blaine held up his bottle of beer. "Calling it a day," he said as he pulled another one from the ice filled cooler and offered it to Wes. They had all been working on repairs at the club along with a group of non-rogue hunters that had come seeking them out. Word was suddenly going around about The Warbler Hunters and Blaine's hawk tattoo. The men had come asking if The Slayer was really alive, if they could join The Warblers in their stand against the rogues, and if they knew how to keep their souls.

They had started out as a group of five friends who'd made a pact to never kill witches in order to keep their souls. And if one of them went rogue, the others had sworn to kill him. Blaine had opened Scandals as a place to get sex from willing mortals and to be able to kick back and relax. He hadn't denied rogues entrance to the place so long as they didn't cause trouble, and it was a good way to keep tabs on them and know what they were up to.

He hadn't counted on being tagged with the hawk tattoo by The Slayer. And it had never occurred to him that other hunters might seek them out.

But it wasn't just about hunter souls anymore. Blaine couldn't ignore the damage rogues were doing to mortals-mortals like Quinn. If he continued to do nothing, it made him just as guilty.

"I sent the men home," Wes remarked as he accepted the beer from Blaine and popped it open. He sprawled across the couch across from the chair where Blaine was sitting. "I think we should be able to finish in a couple of days."

"What do you think?" Blaine asked. He, Wes and Sam had all worked with the other men for hours. Hard, thankless labor was a good way to determine a man's character.

Wes took several swallows of cold beer and sighed in pleasure. "Man, that hits the spot. Here," he said, handing Blaine a piece of paper with several notations scribbled on it. "These few impressed me."

Blaine nodded his agreement as he looked over what Wes had written. He glanced over at Sam, who was methodically cleaning his gun. Sam looked up and met Blaine's gaze.

"I can start training with them. See how they work out," he said.

"I wouldn't mind some of that action myself," Puck said as he fished through the cooler. "Don't get enough sparring."

Blaine wasn't going to turn away hunters looking for a way to stand against the curse. "Set it up, Sam. See what you can get a feel for on these guys." He finished off his beer and turned towards the bank of monitors. "Mike? What'd you get from Finn's GPS?"

Mike glanced away from the multiple screens that showed the safe house from various angles. Blaine had added a security detail of hard ass mortals as an additional safety measure.

"Everything's fine at the house," he said. "Finn and Quinn are at an address that's being rented to a Dr. Tina Cohen-Chang. Here's her driver's license photo."

Blaine noted her long black hair, brown eyes with a witch tilt, and most importantly, the silver necklace around her throat. "She's not a demon witch, then," he said. Demon witches couldn't tolerate silver. Even silver plating burned their skin.

Mike nodded, looking somewhat distracted. "She's got a PhD in psychology and has a private practice that specializes in hypnosis."

So this was her. Elvira. Kurt clearly trusted her. But it bothered Blaine that Tina had never said to Kurt, 'You're a witch and so am I.' Then again, she had probably thought Kurt was safer in the mortal world and without knowing.

Puck killed off his beer and reached for another. "I hope the witch can help Blondie."

Blaine turned to look at his friend. "What did you learn while you were tracking Quinn's husband?"

Puck sat sideways across the large leather chair with his legs dangling over the arm of it. "Antonio Mireles lived with Quinn in Cincinnati for two years. According to his social he didn't report a regular income and it seems they lived off of her salary. But people I talked to all thought he was some sort of independent computer consultant. He has separate bank accounts from the one he shared with Quinn, and guess where the money comes from?"

Blaine grit his teeth, knowing the answer. "Don't tell me, let me guess. Same place as my dad's."

Puck motioned at him with his beer and winked. "Right in one. He's on Alistair Young's payroll. I think he was running a small pack of rogues there in the city. Quinn was working with one of the biggest firms in the city and was on a case against a guy suspected of being involved in the disappearance of several young women. Seems one of the rogues was incompetent and sloppy, somehow got caught, then wasn't smart enough to alter memories. Mireles had to step in, it seems. I talked to Quinn's boss at the firm. Told him she was missing and I'd been hired to find her. He said she'd been one of the best he'd ever seen and had future DA written all over her, and then suddenly she started losing it. He told me she started self harming and that her husband had planned to put her in a treatment facility."

Blaine thought of the damaged but fighting woman he'd met. Antonio Mireles had severely underestimated his wife. The fucker hadn't destroyed her as much as he'd believed.

"Where is the bastard right now?" he asked.

Puck shrugged, his irritation evident. "No one's seen him in a few weeks."

Blaine knew it wouldn't be that easy. "His accounts?"

"Nada," said Puck.

"Think maybe Mireles is one of the rogues we've killed? Maybe he went after a demon witch and she killed him?" asked Sam.

Puck shook his head. "Nah. In the last couple of weeks there've been some pretty fucked up murders in the city. At least three women cut up beyond recognition and their bodies left out on the streets."

Blaine raised an eyebrow. He could feel his hawk feathers stiffen. "Young runs a tight ship. No bodies left behind."

"Exactly. So, I sniffed myself out a couple of rogues. Fuckers need to do something about that copper stink if they're gonna go stealth. Anyway, I prowled around until I found a couple of 'em and got 'em alone. Those fuckers sure did cry about going shade." Puck shook his head in disgust and drained his drink.

"They finally spilled that Mireles is the area rogue leader," Puck continued. "He coordinates the kills and the cleanup. If someone stumbled onto a witch and killed her, that was fine and good so long as they called for cleanup. Seems ol' Tonio is a cold son of a bitch, ruthless and efficient and all that. But he hasn't been around these last few weeks, and some of the rogues were getting out of control."

Something triggered a memory in Blaine's mind. "At Kurt's apartment. Those rogues that attacked us were way more skilled than the idiots my dad usually sends around. These guys nearly got the drop on me."

Puck nodded. "I don't think Mireles is dead. I think he's here in our neck of the woods. He wants to prove himself to Young by bagging their number one kill. It's a turf war, man. He kills Kurt and displaces Damian. Boom. Bigger territory and more prestige in the Junto."

"Fucking hell," snarled Blaine. He stood up and began briskly pacing to get rid of some of the fury building inside him. "Young set my dad and Mireles against each other."

"You and Kurt are the prize," stated Sam. "Stakes just got real for Damian and Mireles. That makes everything a lot more dangerous."

Blaine nodded angrily. "My dad, the dumbass, thinks if he turns me he'll have more pull with Young. Especially if I go rogue and then kill Kurt. That's why he's pulling stunts like cutting up witches, packing them in an SUV and crashing it into my club..." Blaine trailed off as his fury grew hotter and overrode any sort of witch bloodlust he normally felt when his emotions flared out of control. He thought of Kurt in the moonlight, his power surging and growing more potent until he had become the most beautiful thing Blaine had ever seen...until he had seen him lying naked beneath him.

He would not kill Kurt.

He would protect him. It was a living, breathing need inside of him.

Wes snorted. "Damian probably sucks ass at chess. His strategies are too complex and drawn out, and they all have too many outside factors involved. Instead of just figuring out a way to kill you, he plots this grandiose scheme of turning you and you taking your place by his side as he rules for all eternity."

Blaine stopped pacing to stare at Wes while his words echoed in his brain. "Rules what? What the fuck does he have set up at that house, anyway?" He turned to Mike. "See if you can find the blueprints on the remodel my dad did of that house he's staying in. We need to find out exactly what it is he's got set up that drew Antonio Mireles here from Cincinnati."

"Maybe he got word that Quinn's here," pointed out Sam.

"Fuck," Blaine swore, pulling out his cellphone. "I'll call Finn; have him get her back to the house. Mireles isn't going to get her on my watch."

Puck swiveled around in his chair and stretched out his legs. "So, how's Kurt doing with figuring out how to get the spell off Sammy?"

"He's trying to get the answers from the tapestry. It's not easy without a familiar," Blaine answered shortly.

"You know, the rogues think witches, earth witches included, are desperate enough to get their powers back that they'll do anything. Like complete the curse, bind a hunter to them, and make them into a familiar," Puck continued casually.

Blaine leaned against the pool table and crossed his arms. His eyebrows snapped together in an angry scowl and the tattoo on his back grew tight and warm. "You might as well spit it out, Puckerman. What's on your mind?"

"Dude, there's not any witch magic in the tattoo," Wes said in exasperation. "We'd feel it."

Puck shrugged. "How do we know a witch can't hide their powers?"

_Fuck_. "Kurt said his mother used a charm like that," Blaine admitted.

"Yep. And got herself knocked up by Alistair Young." Puck kept his gaze steady on Blaine. "Young wants his son dead. What does he know?"

"He knows he's a witch and not a hunter," Wes said. "And Young hates witches. _All of them_. Blames them for his getting tricked by demon witches when in truth it was his own damn fault. He was thinking with the wrong head and so worked up to get some ass that he didn't bother to check with his silver knife to make sure he was dealing with mortals or earth witches."

Puck sat up straighter in his chair. "And Kurt's mother tricked Young, too. We know that now." He leveled his gaze on Blaine. "I can smell the witch on you. You fucked him. Did you even feel any bloodlust?"

"Hell, yeah, I did!" Blaine retorted. And he had. At least until that moment on the porch when Kurt's powers freed themselves and touched him.

"Okay, fine. So you fucked him to control the bloodlust, then?" Puck persisted.

Blaine glared at him.

Puck shrugged again and slumped back in the chair. "Well? It's what we do. Have sex to control the bloodlust."

Blaine clenched his fists. He hadn't used Kurt like that. It had been more, so much more than sex. It had been magical and powerful, connecting them and filling something in them that they both desperately needed. His men didn't need to know that Kurt's power lived and pulsed inside of him, and that Blaine had touched it. Tasted it. He had felt it sear his very soul. They didn't need to know it had taken every ounce of willpower he possessed to walk away from Kurt that morning, instead of claiming him again and again as he was compelled to do.

Mike broke the building silence. "Since Kurt's father is a witch hunter, maybe that's the reason you can control the bloodlust around him."

Blaine had considered that already. Maybe that was why they had a connection? How Kurt had been able to draw him into his conversation with his mother? Blaine didn't know, but it all left him feeling uneasy and suspicious. Yet when he touched Kurt he felt...whole, somehow.

Sam spoke up calmly. "I have a question, and it's perfectly legit, so don't go turning your laser beam eyes on me. We know Kurt's mother used a charm to cloak her powers. Do you think it's possible Kurt did the same thing to seduce you?"

"No," Blaine stated emphatically. He had _felt_ Kurt's power. There had been no attempt to hide it. Plus, he knew how vulnerable Kurt was when it came to sex, and had seen the pain on his face that morning when he thought Blaine was afraid of him. He gave each of his men an even look. "I am not going to be drawn into the same bullshit the rogues spout incessantly, blaming all witches for the curse, or believing that killing them will break it. We were born to protect earth witches, not kill them."

* * *

Kurt stared at the box full of sand in disbelief. The tapestry cat was gone now, leaving behind the silver box on the hill next to the lake.

He had been able to open the box on his first try, using low magic. As the lid had lifted, he had felt a surge of confidence. He was a witch, strong and powerful. He could do this!

And then the lid rose completely, revealing the contents of the box.

_Sand_. Full to the brim with nothing but sand.

His earlier sense of triumph was choked out by frustration and disappointment. But the spells had to be there, his mom had said they were! How was he supposed to do this? How could he translate sand into spells, or whatever it was he had to do to get to the magic? And every time he opened his fifth chakra, he lost control. He needed a familiar to help him control his power.

Since the scene with Blaine that morning, Kurt had walked upstairs repeatedly to look out the windows, scanning the horizon hopefully, looking to see if the familiar he had begged the Ancestors for would show. But deep down, he knew that it wasn't going to happen.

Kurt was terrified he knew the reason why; his mother's theory about witch and hunter souls merging then splitting, leaving them with half a soul. Kurt feared that when he had called for his familiar by moonlight that Blaine's hunter soul had responded. But then he hadn't sealed the bond by impressing Blaine's image into his silver necklace as Tina had said he would have to do. But had sex sealed the connection instead?

His magic had crested when Blaine made love to him. And at that moment, the tapestry cat had gone ballistic, getting Finn's attention so that he went and found Kurt. And once Kurt got inside, he hadn't been able to connect to his mother until Blaine had touched him.

What if he had accidentally made Blaine his familiar?

Anxiousness swirled deep in his belly, leaving him feeling nauseated. He went upstairs once again to see if maybe his familiar had shown and was sleeping on the porch or deck. Kurt clung desperately to the hope that his real familiar would show, that he hadn't done the unthinkable to Blaine.

How could he face Blaine? If he told him what he suspected, Blaine would probably throw him out right then, and that was only if he didn't kill him on the spot. And then he couldn't help Sammy, either. He would have failed epically and completely. He had nowhere else he could go.

And he was frightened.

* * *

**TBC**

**ittlebitz . tumblr . com**


	8. Magic Or Something More

**Title:** Hot Under My Skin

**Author:** Ittlebitz

**Pairing:** Kurt/Blaine

**Rating:** NC-17 over all, NC-17 this chapter

**Warnings for this** **chapter:** rimming, barebacking, some language, including a homophobic slur, mention of past violence, mention of vomiting

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. I don't own Glee or any of its characters. A copy of Blood Magic is on my nightstand.

**Author's Note: **All my love to by bestie/beta Sam for once again helping me sort things out and calming my insecurities when I hit panic mode. And thank you to all of you who are reading this, especially when you take time out to leave me a review. I love them, and I love you all. And I also appreciate those of you visiting my Tumblr Ask!

* * *

Kurt walked upstairs again, hoping against hope that this would be the time his familiar had appeared. It was quiet when he got into the kitchen. Finn and Quinn had gone to Tina's, so only Deirdre and Sammy were in the house. A soft noise from Sammy's room caught his attention and he went to investigate. When he heard her soft sniffling, he knew she was crying. The sound tugged at his heart and conscious. Sammy was growing more miserable each day. Kurt peered into her room. She was tossing fitfully in the bed, her damp hair sticking to her sweaty, tear stained face. The sheets and comforter were tossed and hanging haphazardly off the mattress.

Deirdre appeared at Kurt's shoulder, holding a bottle of juice to try to tempt Sammy to drink. "It's getting worse. I've given her medicine for the fever, but nothing's working."

Kurt could feel the desperation and anger simmering in Deirdre. He knew she was terrified and her near panic was palpable. He placed a hand on her arm. "Can I try something? I might be able to make her at least a little more comfortable."

At Deirdre's nod, he walked over to Sammy. He kneeled down next to the bed and put a hand on her hot forehead, opening his first four chakras and summoning healing energy. Sammy moaned and shifted under the covers, kicking her feet as though trying to escape something.

"Sammy? Sweetie, it's Kurt. Let me help you, okay?" he whispered soothingly.

He could sense darkness surrounding her. It wasn't something he could see, but it was heavy and overbearing, taking him back to the tiny locked closet of his youth. He could feel it swirling around her. Trying to mesh together into something even worse. Kurt repressed a shiver as he concentrated on sending comforting energy into Sammy. He could feel the slithery sensation of the darkness moving up his arm and had to steel himself against jerking his hand away and wiping it on his shirt to try to rid himself of the oily feeling left behind.

Sammy made a small whimpering noise and raised her hand to wrap it around Kurt's wrist as though to hold it to her forehead. Kurt hummed softly under his breath as he pushed more healing energy into her small body. The positive energy pushed some of the dark sickness from the curse out, and Kurt bore the exchange with a shiver, but did not remove his hand. He lost track of how long he sat like that, but he didn't move his hand until the sensation disappeared. He leaned back, panting slightly and struggling to stay upright. His head throbbed and he felt queasy.

"You made them go away," Sammy whispered. Her eyes were huge and she hugged her Tigger tightly to her.

Kurt shook off the lethargy trying to overwhelm him and looked at the little girl. "Do you feel better, sweetheart?"

"A bit. I'm a little thirsty."

Kurt stood and moved to sit on the edge of the bed as Deirdre came to Sammy with the juice she had brought. She helped her sit up and held the juice while Sammy sipped at it. When Sammy had drunk her fill, she settled back against her pillow.

"Kurt? Can I sleep with you? The shadows are scared of you."

Kurt felt his heart crumble at her hopeful face. "Sweetie, it's too cold downstairs for you." Besides, he was sure Blaine would never allow it. He didn't quite trust Kurt. The divide between witches and hunters was fraught with suspicion.

And maybe Blaine was right to be suspicious.

Sammy's eyes filled with tears. "Will you stay here with me, then? Please?"

Kurt sighed quietly. He couldn't deny her. "Okay, but only until Blaine gets home, alright? Then I have to go back downstairs." He didn't want her to wake up and find him gone after he agreed to stay with her.

"Okay," Sammy yawned as she settled down on her pillow. Kurt pulled her comforter up over her and watched as Deirdre stroked her daughter's damp hair and leaned down to kiss her forehead.

"Thank you," whispered Deirdre to Kurt. "Hopefully she can sleep now." Her face showed her exhaustion and she looked as though she had aged years in only a short time. "We are running out of time."

Kurt tried to shake off the remaining fatigue and feeling of repugnance that touching the curse had brought on. "I can still do this, Deirdre. I'll sleep on the floor in here for a couple of hours and then when Blaine gets home I'll go back to the spells in the box. I'll figure this out."

Deirdre went to the linen closet in the hall and pulled out a couple of thick quilts and an extra pillow. She came back in and fashioned a pallet on the floor for Kurt. "I'll wake you when Blaine gets home, okay."

Kurt crawled onto the pallet and laid his head on the pillow. The pounding in his head was nearly unbearable and his hand trembled as he pulled a quilt over him.

"Thanks," he whispered.

He had to do this. He had to be strong. His mother had fought until her dying breath for him to live. Even when the monster who was his father found her, no matter what he did to her, Elizabeth never told him where Kurt was. Kurt knew he had to have that kind of strength. He had to make his life count. He had to save Sammy, and then maybe somehow he could live on and continue his mother's work to undo the curse destroying witches and hunters.

* * *

Kurt was awakened when something hit him in the face. His eyes flew open to find that Sammy had left her bed and had snuggled on the floor under the quilts next to him and was sound asleep. Kurt carefully moved her arm away from his face and climbed to his knees next to her.

_God_, he was exhausted.

He leaned over to pick up Sammy and put her back in her bed.

"I'll do it."

Kurt jumped back, his heart skipping a beat as the voice registered. He looked up.

_Blaine_. He had come silently into the room. He smelled like he had just gotten out of the shower and his curls were still damp. An adrenaline rush surged through Kurt as his heart pounded in response. He got to his feet quickly.

"Sammy didn't feel well, so I-" Kurt started to try to explain his presence upstairs and in Sammy's room.

"Mom told me," Blaine said as he knelt down to gently take his sleeping sister into his arms and move her to the bed. He carefully tucked her in and put Tigger next to her before covering her snugly with the comforter.

Seeing the powerful man's movements gentled as he cared for his sister filled Kurt with sudden emotion, and he had to swallow the lump forming in his throat. For some reason he was almost ridiculously emotional right now.

Then Blaine turned to look at him. His golden eyes seemed to penetrate Kurt to his very core.

_Time to run away._ Blaine had touched so much more than his body when they'd had sex, and now Kurt felt far too vulnerable and exposed. He could feel his body responding to just that look. His heart pounded, his cock twitched and he felt like his skin was suddenly growing too small for him. It was though he craved Blaine's touch. _Needed_ it. He hated feeling that; needing something from someone else.

Raising his chin, he said, "I'll go back downstairs."

He turned toward the door and walked right into Blaine.

"Would you _stop_ that?" Kurt hissed, keeping his voice low so as not to wake up Sammy. He was unnerved by how Blaine could move with such inhuman strength and speed. He wondered if Blaine could sense that he was hiding something from him.

"We need to talk," whispered Blaine in reply.

Kurt bit his lip nervously. "I need to work. I finally opened the box of spells, now I just need to figure out how to read them or make them work somehow."

Blaine reached for Kurt and pulled him closer. "We'll go outside. That might help you. If nothing else, it'll make you feel better."

Kurt stared at Blaine. Blaine knew that about him. His grandfather had known it and had used it against him. He took a deep breath to try to center himself, but instead he found himself surrounded by Blaine's scent. The clean scent of his soap and shampoo from his shower combined with the underlying sandalwood scent that made Kurt want to tear off all their clothes so that they felt only the moonlight and each other's touch. Outside; he needed to go outside.

"Alright," he agreed. "You can let go of me."

Blaine released his hold on Kurt and walked towards the kitchen. Kurt followed, trying to pull himself together. When they got to the kitchen, Deirdre was sitting at the table with a glass of wine and her iPad.

"We're going outside," Blaine told her.

Deirdre nodded, then looked at Kurt with concern in her eyes. "Are you alright, Kurt? You have to be feeling some sort of effect from what you did earlier."

Kurt shrugged, feeling Blaine's eyes on him.

"What did you do?" Blaine asked.

"Sammy said he made the shadows go away," Deirdre answered for him. "I could see something dark moving from Sammy to Kurt. And Kurt got more and more pale."

Kurt didn't want to think about it anymore. "I'm fine."

"Then the moonlight is what you need. It'll do you good," Blaine said. He took two wine glasses from a cabinet and filled them with his favorite pinot grigio, offering one to Kurt.

Kurt accepted the glass and followed Blaine outside. He still felt sleep rumpled, sure his clothes were wrinkled and his hair probably stood up wildly in multiple directions rather than its normal coiffed perfection. But as soon as he stepped into the moonlight, that all slid away.

The night air was scented with impending rain and the moon flirted from behind a cloud cover, brushing Kurt's skin with its silver light and then hiding away. Kurt could feel his blood running stronger and he grew warm as his witch energy pulsed inside him. He felt strong and powerful. Alive. They walked silently to the lake.

Blaine pointed toward the far side of the house. "Over there is a hidden garage. At the end of the downstairs hallway is a mirror. It's actually a hand scanner. I entered your palm print into its database so you can access the garage. There are vehicles in there that are always prepared. If the house is attacked and I'm not here, I want you to get Sammy and get the both of you out."

Kurt was surprised. He sipped his wine and thought about what Blaine had said. The gentle noise of water lapping at the shore was soothing, and he remembered what Elizabeth said about ley lines found where the elements met. Water meeting land. He took a deep breath and felt his body reviving as his chakras opened wide to feed on the elements around him. His awareness sharpened and he felt more connected to everything around him.

They had stopped at the place on the shore where they had made love. Kurt looked at Blaine. "You aren't afraid I'll run away anymore."

Blaine's lips turned up in a confident smile. "No. I know you know I can protect you better than you can protect yourself." The smile suddenly vanished. "That first night I didn't know you were claustrophobic. I could feel your fear but didn't know if you might be playing me."

Kurt saw a large rock a few feet away and walked over to sit on it. A gentle breeze rustled the leaves on the trees and cooled his warm face. "You don't seem to be very trusting of witches." He cringed inwardly. Now why had he brought that up?

"Witches aren't any more trusting of us," Blaine pointed out as he sat on the rock next to Kurt, close enough that their thighs touched. "If you hadn't been under attack when I found you, I would have asked you first. I had planned to offer you a deal."

Kurt raised an eyebrow in surprise. "And if I'd said no?"

Blaine shrugged. "Then I would have taken you anyway. I knew the rogues were going to be coming for you. I wouldn't have left you to be slaughtered."

Kurt studied Blaine in the moonlight. He was close enough that he could see the warm hazel of Blaine's eyes and feel his warm breath on his face. But it was his scent that made Kurt want to lean into him and breathe in deeply. That need, that _craving_ was tugging at his gut again. He licked his lips nervously and said, "Why did you pick me to help you? Why are you telling me this?"

Blaine closed his eyes briefly and breathed in before opening them to look into Kurt's eyes again. "Kurt. There comes a time when you know that things are changing. You trusted me last night. Trusted me with not only your body, but your life. You believed that I wouldn't lose control and kill you. You believed in me when you had no reason to." He reached out and cradled Kurt's cheek in his hand. "I think from the time I saw your eyes in the picture my dad gave me I was already in trouble. And I want you to know I'm never cruel without reason."

Kurt felt his heart squeeze. He didn't want to lie to Blaine or hide his fears from him. But he was afraid that if he told him, Blaine would throw him out and go after the demon witch. And Blaine, _this_ Blaine would be gone once he killed the witch and went rogue. Kurt knew he couldn't let that happen. He had to heal Sammy first, then he could tell Blaine what he was afraid had happened. He looked around desperately, hoping to see a cat or an owl, _anything_ that a familiar might take form as, but again, there was nothing.

"Is that what you wanted to talk to me about?" Kurt asked Blaine, managing to keep his voice steady.

Blaine shook his head. "No. I wanted to be the one to tell you. We know that Elvira is Tina Cohen-Chang."

Kurt felt the blood drain from his face and the wineglass slipped from his fingers. Blaine's hand shot out lightening fast to catch it before it shattered on the rocks. Kurt stared at the glass dumbly for a second before clumsily lurching to his feet.

"I have to tell her!" he gasped. Tina had risked so much to help him.

Blaine set the glass down and reached for Kurt, taking his hand. "We aren't going to hurt her, Kurt. I swear it. The Warblers are committed to not giving into the curse by hunting down earth witches. We had to be sure she wasn't a demon witch."

"_That_ again? I told you, Blaine, she's not a demon witch. She's my friend!" Kurt snapped.

"Shhhhh, I know," Blaine said gently, rubbing Kurt's knuckles lightly with his thumb in an effort to soothe him.

Kurt was trying to figure out what had happened. "Did you see her? Scare her? Is she hurt?"

Blaine shook his head. "No, nothing like that. Mike hacked into Finn's GPS and found the address where he stopped when he took Quinn. We found out Tina rented the house and looked up her DMV file. In her picture we could see she wore a silver necklace. Demon witches don't wear silver. Ever."

"She always wears silver. She has a silver armband that she is never without," Kurt said without thinking, then wanted to kick himself. Why was he telling Blaine this? He'd betrayed him. And why didn't he pull his hand from Blaine's warm grasp? "I have to let her know. She'll have to leave, find a safe place." Tina would leave him, wouldn't contact him anymore. He'd be alone.

Blaine gave Kurt's hand a reassuring squeeze. "Kurt, no. I won't let anything happen to her. The only ones who know are the other Warblers and myself. I didn't have to tell you but I chose to do so. Just like I didn't have to let Finn and Quinn come to the house and then leave today, knowing the location."

"Finn would never tell! He would never put me at risk!"

"I know. I'm trusting in that, trusting the life of my mother and sister in that. Just like you are trusting that we aren't going to hurt Tina." Blaine tugged on Kurt's hand. "Please sit down and talk to me."

Kurt knew he could walk away, could insist on letting Tina know right away. He had enough magic now to lock Blaine out of the house, at least for a time. But Blaine had been honest with him. He had his reasons for finding out who Tina was, just as Kurt had his reasons for keeping Tina's identity a secret. He sighed and sat down next to Blaine again. "She needs to know. I will have to tell her. She helped me when all the other witches refused."

Blaine reached down for Kurt's wineglass and handed it to him. "Do what you think is best."

Unsure, Kurt took a sip of wine. He felt his breathing and heart rate calming, then remembered the secret he was keeping from Blaine. He pulled his hand from Blaine's grasp and scooted back to put some space between them. "Tina won't help me anymore. Not after this," he fretted.

Blaine frowned and turned to look at Kurt's downcast face. "Surely that's not true. She isn't a true friend if that's the case."

Kurt stared out at the lake, watching the moonlight play on its surface. "Tina and I became friends so fast. We met in high school, in the glee club. We were nearly inseparable, even when she went to college."

Blaine nodded. "Mike says she's a psychologist?"

"Yes. She works using a form of hypnosis to help brainwash victims as well as trauma victims." Kurt looked at Blaine again. "She'll be able to help Quinn. She'll know how to tell her..." his voice trailed off. He hadn't told anyone but Tina about Quinn's secret.

"Tell her what?" prompted Blaine when Kurt was quiet for too long.

Kurt didn't want to remember the flashes of memory he'd gotten from Quinn. "Quinn's pregnant. And she doesn't realize it, though Tina says that a part of her knows and is protecting the baby."

"And it's her husband's?" Blaine's voice was rough.

Kurt nodded. "It's why she ran. This morning she locked herself in the bathroom and kept saying she had to protect someone, but she didn't know who. When I tried to calm her, I got a mix of her memories and saw her sick and scared in a bathroom. She was holding one of those home pregnancy test sticks that confirmed her pregnancy." He shivered at the memory of the hellish images he'd seen.

Blaine grabbed for Kurt's hand again. "You saw him cut her, Kurt?"

Kurt nodded, swallowing heavily. "I didn't know what to do. I was afraid if I told her she was pregnant and that was who she was protecting that it would be too much for her."

"So that's why you were going behind my back to send Finn and Quinn to Tina. I'm glad you told me. This complicates things and makes them even more dangerous for Quinn. It explains why Mireles didn't just kill her. If the baby is a boy, he wants it. And he won't stop until he gets her back, at least long enough for her to have the baby."

Fear jumped into Kurt's eyes and he pulled his hand away from Blaine again. "I need to tell Finn!"

"I already did," Blaine reassured him. "They will be back tonight. Finn knows that Mike found information that makes us think Mireles is in the area and he's on the alert. It's safer for them to come back here, rather than going to Finn's or Quinn's place. And I don't want you worrying about them."

Kurt took another sip of his wine, wondering if Blaine truly cared, or if he just didn't want Kurt distracted from trying to break the curse on Sammy.

"Do you still regret making love with me?"

Blaine's words sounded almost vulnerable and drew Kurt's startled gaze to his face. Kurt thought for a moment. _No_, he didn't regret it. But he regretted with every fiber of his being what he may have done to Blaine in the process. Blaine would hate him. Kurt didn't want to answer, but it escaped him anyway. "No."

Blaine took the wineglass from Kurt and set it down, then reached out to touch Kurt's face again. "You said this morning I was like your grandfather. What did he do to you?"

Blaine's touch was gentle, but his voice was rough. What did it matter if he knew?

"He was afraid of me and didn't want me to touch him." Kurt tried to shrug nonchalantly. He remembered some of his favorite cartoons, Rugrats and Hey Arnold, from when he was a kid. The grandfathers were always so loving. He remembered trying to get his grandfather to love him, asking him to read to him or trying to get him to play with him. After enough harsh rejections, he had stopped. But he had never stopped wanting to be held and made to feel safe and loved. It made him annoyed with himself to feel that even now. He was a grown man, not a child. He could stand on his own.

"Give me an example," Blaine said.

"If he caught me doing something he thought was evil, like sneaking outside to be in the moonlight or making my toys move without touching them, he would lock me in the hall closet." Kurt looked out across the calm water again and squeezed his hands together in his lap. "And there was the time I was at the shop when I was just a little boy. Dad had to work last minute because one of the guys was out sick, and he hadn't been able to get a sitter. He had to go to the auto parts store to get something he needed, and he left me there playing. Granddad was working behind the counter and Will Schuester came in for an oil change. He had the death mark on his forehead, and the voices in my head told me it was the mark and to stay away."

Kurt realized now it had been the Ancestors warning him. He continued, "I was so scared I started screaming, yelling that he had the death mark and that it would kill him. Granddad was so mad and embarrassed. He went out to the bar that night and got drunk, then dragged me out of bed when he got home. He was yelling that I was the spawn of the devil, that my birth mother had thrown me away because she didn't want me and that he didn't want me either. Dad came in and pulled him away and they got into this huge fight about it." He never intended to say so much, but the words wouldn't stop coming now that he'd finally released them.

Blaine put one of his hands on both of Kurt's where he held them clasped together in his lap. "Then what happened?"

Kurt blinked, surprised at Blaine's show of support. The warmth of his hand was calming, and Kurt wanted to tell him the rest of the story. "Dad made him leave me alone. He put me back to bed and held me for a long time. He told me he loved me just as I was, that I was special no matter what. But I knew there was something was wrong with me. So I tried to be more normal. I didn't want him to send me away." He gave a small huff of humorless laughter. "When I knew I was gay I didn't want to tell him. And when Dad met Carol, Finn's mother, he and Finn got along so well. I was terrified that he wouldn't want me anymore. That he finally had the chance for a normal son. So I hid it. I dressed in flannels and baggy jeans. I wore a trucker cap. I even dated a cheerleader and made sure to let Dad catch us making out so he would know I was a normal boy, too."

Blaine squeezed Kurt's hands. "So you were scared into repressing your powers."

"So it would seem," Kurt agreed.

"And your dad allowed your grandfather to treat you like that." Blaine sounded angry.

Kurt couldn't allow that. "No. Dad would never let Granddad do anything when he was around. But he was sick, Blaine. He needed his dad. And as much as Granddad hated me, he loved my dad more. He took care of Dad when things were bad and made sure the shop ran smoothly and was taken care of. But Dad loved me and protected me the best he could."

Kurt wondered what Burt would have thought if he had lived long enough to find out Kurt was a witch. Somehow, he felt sure Burt would have been just as proud and supportive as he had always been. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back to let the moonlight caress his skin. He was an earth witch, always had been. He breathed in deeply and let the feel of the earth, the water, and the moonlight wash over him and fill his very essence with power.

"You are so beautiful when you do that."

The husky tenor of Blaine's voice mixed with the elements and stirred Kurt's blood. Why did Blaine feel so vital to him? Why did he long for him? He opened his eyes and turned to look at Blaine. His black t-shirt was pulled tight over his muscles and he looked comfortable and at ease. He was both fierce and protective all at once.

"Shouldn't you be feeling bloodlust?" Kurt questioned him.

Blaine ran his fingers into the hair at the back of Kurt's head and pulled gently, tilting his head back. His hazel eyes gleamed in the moonlight. "I don't feel bloodlust, sweet witch."

"No?" Kurt asked breathlessly. He felt his blood running hotter and faster in his veins, sparking fire low in his belly and groin.

"No," Blaine responded, shaking his head lazily. He leaned forward to brush his lips against Kurt's, a mere whisper of sensation that had Kurt wanting more. "I don't know what this is between us, but I know I want it. And so do you."

Kurt quirked an eyebrow at his assured words even as his body melted to move him closer. "I do?"

"Without a doubt," Blaine said, still teasing with his lips, brushing them lightly against Kurt's. "I can smell your desire."

Kurt ran his hand into Blaine's curls and pulled him forward to press their lips together firmly. He slid his tongue into Blaine's mouth and nearly shuddered in pleasure. He could taste the richness of the wine and pure _Blaine_. His blood thundered through him and he wanted more.

Blaine pulled back from the kiss and shifted on the rock. He pulled Kurt towards him so that he sat astride his lap, then wrapped one arm around Kurt's waist while cupping his neck with his other hand and pulled him close. Blaine took absolute control of their kiss, drawing Kurt's tongue into his mouth and sucking on it before pushing forward with his own to foray into the warm recesses of Kurt's mouth. He licked everywhere he could, reveling in the taste of _Kurt_.

Kurt had never felt like this. Held and kissed in a way that made him feel important and desired. As if at this very moment, he was the center of Blaine's world and he couldn't get enough of him. Blaine's mouth was demanding and Kurt met him with equal fervor. His powers ran hot and wild, making him want-no, _need_-to get closer to Blaine. He could feel Blaine hard against him and rocked his hips, the friction driving them both wild.

Blaine groaned, breaking their kiss to toss his head back. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he panted for breath. "I can feel your powers rushing through me," he said, voice roughened with _want_ and _need_.

Kurt could feel the current passing between them. His open chakras had focused, hot and sensual, and energy flowed from Kurt to Blaine and back again in the form of feathers sweeping lightly across his overheated skin. It fed his need but left him wanting even more. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, whispering, "Your hawk is touching me."

Blaine's eyes blazed molten fire. "You feel him?"

"_Yes_," Kurt breathed. He could feel the strength of Blaine's arms around him, the heat of his body, especially where he was hot and throbbing against him. And he felt the brush of wings everywhere all at once. Excruciating pleasure swept over him with each stroke of feathers over his highly sensitized skin and he arched back in Blaine's arms, moaning softly.

"Holy fuck, Kurt." Blaine's voice was low and almost reverent. "I could make you come just like this, couldn't I? And then I'd come from just watching you." He stood up, causing Kurt to gasp and wrap his legs around his waist, and turned to stride purposefully towards the house. "But when you come, I want you naked and in my arms while I'm so deep inside you I can feel each pulse of your pleasure around me."

* * *

Blaine didn't understand the bond between himself and the witch he carried into the house. But when he'd gotten home from the club earlier that night, he'd seen Sammy cuddled next to Kurt on the floor. He had his arms wrapped around her as they slept, and Sammy had been peacefully asleep for the first time in days. She hadn't been tossing fitfully, shaking with a chill or burning up with fever. The most incredible thing, though, had been Kurt's witch glow that had surrounded them both. His witch had drawn out the darkness tormenting his sister and protected her with the light of an earth witch.

It had loosened the knot of suspicion in his chest. A witch that protected a child in his sleep didn't try to bind a man to him against his will. Whatever this was between them was no magical lie. It was real. He had to believe there was a purpose to all that was happening.

And _God_, he wanted Kurt. He quickly shut the door behind them and armed the security alarm before turning and carrying Kurt to his bedroom. He moved to shut the door behind them, but it moved on its own, closing quietly. He sucked in a breath as he felt Kurt's power brush over his skin.

Blaine raised one side of his mouth in a half grin. "Showing off, I see."

Kurt's blue eyes sparkled with green and gold. He raised a hand and made a sweeping motion, and with a wave of magic, they were both fully nude. "_Now_ I'm showing off," he said with a cheeky smirk.

"You've been practicing." Blaine slowly loosened his hold on Kurt so that he slid down his body to stand on his own feet. The feel of Kurt's hot skin against his and their hard cocks brushing against each other made Blaine's head swim and fanned the hot coals of lust into white hot flames. He kissed Kurt hard and hungrily, debating on lifting him up and directly onto his cock.

_Too rough_, he decided.

But last night Kurt had taken him completely. All of him. Every thrust had taken him deeper until he was buried completely and balls deep in the tight perfection that was Kurt's ass.

_Sweet merciful Jesus._

Blaine bit back a groan when Kurt leaned forward to lick and nibble at his neck, blazing a trail of fire from his shoulder up to his ear.

"_Mmmmmm_, I want..." Kurt's whisper trailed off.

Blaine bit back another groan. Kurt was going to kill him. He was desperate now, needing to know what Kurt wanted and to give it to him.

"What? What do you want, Kurt?"

Kurt hesitated a beat, then answered quickly, "You."

Blaine felt the lie. And he wasn't about to allow it. "No, tell me."

Kurt looked into his eyes. His cheeks were suddenly pinker with something more than just desire. "I want to feel your hawk around me. From, ummmm..."

Blaine could see exactly what Kurt wanted. While Kurt stumbled over the words to try to explain what he wanted, an image bloomed in Blaine's mind. Kurt wanted him behind him, wrapping around him so he could imagine the wings of his hawk around him while Blaine fucked into him from behind. A hot surge of lust rushed through him, straight to his already hard and throbbing cock. Blaine raised his hand to cup Kurt's face and run his thumb lightly over his full lower lip. "From behind. You know you're safe if you can feel my wings around you." That he didn't have wings didn't matter to him at that moment. Nothing mattered except Kurt.

Kurt's eyes widened. "Did you hear my thoughts?"

"I saw them. Saw what you need." Blaine would reach around Kurt and the wings would touch him, brushing over his balls and up his shaft to feather across the head of his cock. And when Kurt came, Blaine would let the wings fold around him and hold him, his chest would be against Kurt's back and he would thrust into him until, once again, he touched the very core of him.

Kurt shuddered. "Blaine, _God_, you're inside my head." His voice was thick with need.

"And you're in mine." Blaine pulled Kurt to him and held him close against his chest. Against the spot there that so often felt hollow; but not now. Tonight he was complete. He closed his eyes and inhaled, needing the warm spicy vanilla and cinnamon scent that was purely _Kurt_. His cock throbbed with the need to be inside him, and he nuzzled the sensitive skin behind Kurt's ear before pressing a slow kiss there.

Kurt responded by running his hand down Blaine's stomach to wrap around his erect cock. He pumped it slowly and steadily, causing Blaine to lose his breath as the need inside him ramped to the next level. The need to give Kurt what he wanted pounded in his bloodstream. He maneuvered Kurt the short distance to his bed.

Blaine shook as he arranged Kurt on his hands and knees. He ran his hands possessively over Kurt's sweet ass, gripping it tightly. The breath left his lungs as he raked his eyes over the width of Kurt's shoulders, down the line of his spine and to the perfect round globes in his hands. _Mine_. That thought pounded through him with each thud of his heart.

Kurt looked over his shoulder back at him, and Blaine sucked in a harsh breath at how sexy it made him look. "I can hear you," Kurt whispered.

Blaine felt the wings of his hawk lift and flutter under his hot skin. _You touch me where no one else can_, he thought.

Kurt's eyes darkened in response. _Hawk?_

Blaine's hands moved to Kurt's hips and tightened their hold. _Yes._

_Mine._

Kurt's thought was just as fierce as Blaine's had been. So, his witch considered his hawk his own? And hadn't he stared at Kurt's ass just now and thought the same thing? Yes. _Mine_. The possessive thought roared through him again and Blaine moved his hands over Kurt's skin. He had to touch what was his, what belonged to him.

Kurt arched his back and Blaine leaned over him. Skin to skin. He pressed hot kisses to the back of Kurt's neck and ran his tongue along the sensual curve of it to nip at one shoulder. He worked his way down Kurt's spine, lips feather light and tongue occasionally darting out to tease. When he got to the swell of Kurt's ass, he ran his thumbs down the crack and gently pulled the cheeks further apart. His mouth went dry as he stared at the dusky pink pucker that waited for him.

Unable to resist, Blaine lowered his head and dragged his tongue over Kurt's entrance. He felt Kurt's body jerk in surprise and then heard him release a breathy moan that might have been his name. Blaine licked at Kurt's hole again, this time with more pressure. He ran his tongue around it in teasing circles before hardening his tongue to a point and pressing inward ever so slightly. He could hear Kurt making noises that went straight to his cock. But he wasn't finished yet. Blaine continued to kiss and lick at Kurt's tight hole, exploring and tasting, mentally mapping his territory. He ran his tongue over the sensitive puckered skin again and again, reveling in each moan, each cry, each babble of words he elicited from Kurt. He changed his movements constantly, one moment making long, slow strokes of his tongue, the next, rapid swirls and the quick nip of teeth. He pointed his tongue again, this time pressing inward with an insistent pressure until he was past the tight ring and inside of Kurt. He darted his tongue in and out, spreading Kurt a little further apart with each lick.

"_Oh, my God, yes,_" breathed Kurt, closing his eyes as he grabbed the sheet in both fists. The hot, wet sensation of Blaine's talented tongue, lips and teeth was dizzying, and Kurt was being inundated by multiple sensations all at once. He could feel Blaine's hands gripping his hips tightly as he licked him open, his tongue sliding in and out of his body as though he had done it a thousand times before. Each pass of Blaine's tongue sent fiery sparks to Kurt's groin, and the muscles of his thighs quivered as he tensed. More than anything, he wanted to reach down and touch himself, but it would be over too soon. He would have to let Blaine continue his delicious torture. Kurt moaned low in his throat when he again felt the sensation of feathers brushing against his heated skin.

Blaine's entire body was alive and thrumming with desire. He was tempted to try to make Kurt come with just his tongue, but he had promised him his hawk. The wings of his tattoo quivered violently, as if they, too, could scent the spiced vanilla permeating the air and flooding Blaine's body, and needed to touch Kurt as well. Blaine couldn't believe it, but he would swear he actually felt Kurt's hot skin against the tip of the wings. It was magic, it had to be.

Kurt bucked back against him. His breathing was coming in rapid pants and Blaine could see Kurt's mind flash bright like the light of the moon, filled with images of them. He reached over to the nightstand and took a bottle of lubricant out of the drawer. He popped the cap open and drizzled some over his fingers, rubbing them together to coat them and warm the liquid. He pressed two fingers into Kurt's hole, which was already slightly stretched and slick from his mouth. Kurt tossed his head back and moaned loudly.

_More, Blaine! Hurry, I need you..._

Blaine considered himself lucky that he didn't come that very second. He added a third finger and stretched Kurt even further in preparation for his throbbing cock. He crooked one finger upward and smiled with satisfaction when Kurt gasped and shuddered. The cinnamon smell of Kurt's desire filled Blaine's senses and he stopped teasing. His need to be inside Kurt took over and he took his aching cock in his hand to guide it to Kurt's stretched and ready hole.

Blaine pushed in slowly, pleasure sweeping over him as he entered Kurt's tight ass. Only with Kurt could he let go and just _feel_. He drew back and thrust again, deeper this time, feeling the pull of Kurt's power. Kurt arched and spread his knees further apart on Blaine's next thrust, causing him to enter fully. Both of them moaned at the overwhelming pleasure; Blaine being buried deep in the exquisitely tight heat of Kurt, Kurt being stretched and filled completely by Blaine. The pleasure filled his mind with the white light again and Blaine pulled back and thrust again. Nothing else in the world mattered, only them, their pleasure, the touch of their skin, their sex. Blaine thrust again, hard and deep. His hawk wings stretched and folded around Kurt, gently holding the gentle soul of his witch while he fucked into the wild body of the man.

"_Blaine_," Kurt cried out in a low voice. He whimpered as his body bucked again in pleasure.

Blaine held Kurt tight with one arm while the other reached around to take his hard cock in his free hand. He stroked Kurt firmly and the light in Kurt's mind burned brighter until it swirled in hot silver as he came. Blaine thrust again and pleasure pounded through him as he lost himself blissfully in Kurt. He gave him everything. He couldn't hold back with him.

Kurt stayed as he was on his hands and knees, trembling and trying to catch his breath. He could feel Blaine in his head. He had heard voices in his head all his life, but nothing like this. This blending of their minds and feelings was both intense and overwhelming. And it was so intimate that it scared the shit out of him.

Blaine was still pressed against his back, one powerful arm wrapped around his waist while the other helped support him. He pressed his lips to Kurt's neck and whispered, "I know."

Blaine had heard his thoughts. Kurt sucked in a harsh breath as another burst of pleasure sent his power pulsing through him. "What is this?" he breathed.

"Some sort of mind link." Blaine held Kurt steady as he slowly pulled out of him, both of them hissing softly at the change of sensation. He encouraged Kurt to move forward towards the pillows, and when Kurt lay down, Blaine stretched out next to him. Still needing to touch Kurt, he wrapped his arms around him and pulled him to the warmth of his chest.

Kurt froze as icy fear washed over him. He tried to roll away from Blaine.

Blaine tightened his grip, not wanting to let go. "Baby, we aren't finished here." He rubbed his thumb teasingly over one of Kurt's nipples.

Kurt felt a warm wave of pleasure swirl low in his belly, but he fought it. "No."

Blaine leaned up on one elbow to look down at Kurt. Confusion was evident in his eyes. "What's wrong, Kurt? I know you have the stamina to go at least two more rounds. I want you, and I know you want me. So why not?"

Kurt fought back a sense of rising panic. _Because he was doing something to Blaine!_ And Blaine was doing something to him. Making him want to be with him; making him want to trust him. But that was foolish. Yet, when they had sex, Blaine made him feel _loved_.

"Don't, Blaine. Don't do this."

Blaine's eyes softened as his hand captured the back of Kurt's head above the neck.

"You're afraid."

"I'm realistic." Kurt struggled to control the energy rushing through him and push it back into his chakras. But his powers were responding to Blaine's touch and he couldn't get them under his control. That scared him even more. "It's just sex, Blaine," he snapped. "I'm nothing to you. You've probably been fucking other guys while you had me locked in your basement." Voicing that thought hurt. He had given Blaine too much and Blaine could easily destroy him. Still struggling for control, he continued, "We had sex and now I need to get to work."

Blaine stared at him incredulously for a moment, then he snorted. "I'll have you know I haven't touched another man since the night I took you from the tire shop."

Kurt felt his skin prickle. "Why not?"

Blaine's golden eyes burned as they looked at him. "_You_. From the very beginning you were under my skin. I was sure it was the bloodlust. I had touched your blood and thought that must have been what got me addicted to you. But now I don't feel the bloodlust. It's gone."

Kurt froze, trying to comprehend. "And how do you think that happened?"

Blaine shrugged as he traced the fingers of his other hand over Kurt's pink nipples, causing them to harden, before lightly stroking down over his belly and back up. "Maybe we're breaking the curse by turning back to The Slayer. The Warblers took the wings and The Slayer changed mine to the hawk. We are trying to make right choices."

Kurt shivered at his teasing touch. His powers followed the warmth of Blaine's fingers, causing his blood to spark and his body to tighten with need. But what really touched him was the hope in Blaine's voice. He hoped that Blaine was right, that this was evidence that The Slayer had accepted His hunter, and not that Kurt would be the one to shatter Blaine's hope. "Do you think that's why the wings feel real to us?"

"Yes. Slayer Hunters, before the curse, didn't have wings. But The Slayer does. So maybe that makes the wing tattoos feel real."

Or maybe Kurt had completed the curse and turned Blaine into a familiar. Essentially an animal. Was that what was bringing the wings to life? It was confusing enough, but Blaine's hands on him kept him from thinking clearly. He tried to think, to figure things out.

"Witches evolved. We came from special mortals and evolved into a special race. Over time, with each generation and each reincarnation, we became even more powerful. That's what Tina told me. Then the curse happened. Witches and hunters were changed. We lost part of our powers. Hunters lost their immortality and were burdened with the curse. All of our souls were damaged. Maybe we have to evolve enough to reconnect, witches to our Ancestors and hunters to The Slayer," Kurt mused. Maybe his mother's soul mirror theory played a part in all this. Or maybe he was grasping at any possibility in the hopes that he hadn't turned Blaine into a familiar against his will.

Blaine's gaze was steady on Kurt's face. He was listening, thinking. "What was it about me that got The Slayer's attention enough that he would change my tattoo?"

Kurt linked their fingers together. He looked deeply into Blaine's honey colored eyes. "You once said to me you had resisted this curse since you were fifteen. What happened then?"

All the warmth in Blaine's eyes disappeared and they grew distant and cold. Kurt tightened his hold on Blaine's hand. "Tell me what happened," he encouraged softly.

Blaine took a shaky breath. "When I was fifteen, my dad tried to turn me rogue."

Kurt stared at him for a moment before he grasped what he was saying. "He wanted you to kill a witch?" When Blaine's jaw tightened, Kurt felt the rush of power moving through him and down through his fingertips to send calming energy.

Finally, Blaine answered him. "She was tied down in a room where no one would hear her. He cut her over and over. The screams, _God_, her screams..." his voice trailed off as the backlash of memories slammed into Kurt.

_The witch was tied down to a table in a dirty little room. Her blond hair was matted with blood and sweat and the smell of fear poured off her very skin to mix with the coppery scent of blood._

_A large man stood next to the table next to a tall boy. He whipped out a silver knife and drew it across the witch's white belly. Her scream echoed in the room as she twisted and struggled against the ropes. She begged for the Ancestors to help her, turned her fear filled eyes to the boy and begged him._

_Young Blaine stood frozen next to his father. Then his dad grabbed his wrist and forced his hand down on the wound. The boy was horrified and revolted, then confused as pleasure and power tore through him like lightening. He shivered with it, but then the witch screamed again._

_The boy tore his hand away, turned and ran. His heart and head pounded as he ran out into the empty lot of the abandoned building. He could smell the blood on his hand and before he could react any further, he leaned over and threw up._

_Damian stormed out of the building. "You miserable, cowardly faggot!" he snarled as he backhanded the boy to the ground._

"Kurt? Kurt, come back to me." Blaine's voice broke through the memory and the image shattered as Kurt returned to the present. Blaine's face filled his vision, the grown and powerful man, not the frightened boy.

Tears welled up in Kurt's eyes and ran down his cheeks, but he didn't care. "Oh my God," he choked out. "Your dad is a monster!"

Blaine gently rubbed away the tear traces with his thumbs. "I tried to fight him. I had this crazy idea that I could save the witch. But my dad was bigger and stronger, and he beat the shit out of me. He tried to drag me back in there, but I managed to get away. Ever since, I've built my life around resisting the curse and never letting it control me."

Kurt stared at Blaine in wonder. "Blaine. You stood up against your father. For a witch."

Blaine shrugged. "I don't know if it was for her or for me. I didn't want to be like _him_, like my dad. I didn't want to be slave to the curse like that."

Kurt caressed Blaine's shoulder with his free hand. "You were born to lead."

"Christ, Kurt. You make me want to be the man you see." Blaine pressed his lips reverently against Kurt's. "What we have is more than just sex, my witch." He rolled Kurt under him and slid deep inside him, causing Kurt's gasp of surprise to break off into a low moan of pleasure.

Blaine thrust deeply, shattering Kurt's defenses and stroking his body to a fiery heated need. Kurt wrapped his arms around Blaine's neck and his legs around his waist, holding him close. He wanted to imprint the memory of this moment of acceptance permanently in his mind. He felt Blaine's hand stroking his hard cock and he arched his back with a loud cry as he came in hard, hot stripes over Blaine's fist and his own belly. As his orgasm shook him, he forced his eyes to open and look at Blaine.

Blaine was watching him, his eyes aglow with passion and hunger. He was pounding into him, his shoulders gleaming with sweat as his muscles flexed under his heated skin. Finally, he rose up on both arms and thrust one final time, head tossed back as he called out Kurt's name when he came.

To Kurt's utter shock, a huge set of golden brown wings opened up in wild majestic and masculine beauty behind him. Blaine, caught in the throes of his orgasm, never noticed.

Kurt's mind raced wildly. They weren't just feeling the sensation of wings. They were real. _Oh, dear God. What had he done to him?_

* * *

**__TBC**

**ittlebitz . tumblr . com**


	9. Falling Into You

**Title:** Hot Under My Skin

**Author:** Ittlebitz

**Pairing:** Kurt/Blaine

**Rating:** NC-17 over all, NC-17 this chapter

**Warnings for this** **chapter:** Sex (barebacking, oral sex, shower sex)

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. I don't own Glee or any of its characters. I have a copy of Blood Magic.

**Author's Note: **All my love to my ever lovely and talented (not to mention patient and long suffering) bestie/beta Sam for once again taking my heap of words and molding it into something pretty. Thank you to all of you who are reading this, especially when you take time out to leave me a review. I love them, and I love you all. I appreciate those of you visiting my Tumblr Ask to let me know your thoughts or even just to say hi. I just want to cuddle you all!

I also want to apologize to one reader who approached me on anon on Tumblr. I really did intend to have this posted earlier for you, and unfortunately I wasn't able to make it happen. It took me a while to write the chapter, then RL got in my way. I hope all went well for you and maybe this will help you feel better. ❤

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"Blaine and his men know who you are," Kurt said to Tina. He was sitting in the bed talking to her on the laptop he had found on Blaine's desk. After having sex a third time with Blaine, Kurt had fallen into an exhausted slumber and slept through the night.

And the hawk. Each time Kurt would nearly surface from his sleep, he would feel the soothing stroke of feathers on his skin while Blaine held him in his arms, and he'd drift off again. It was like the hawk knew he needed the rest.

The Elvira avatar pixelated and became Tina's face. She looked tired and her dark eyes were cloudy with concern. "I should have known they'd find me. They always do."

"I'm sorry, Tina. I'm so sorry. But Blaine swore to me that they won't hurt you, that they've all vowed not to give in to the curse. They even have earth witches that were cut by rogues housed in one of the Warbler safe houses." He told her about the previous night's events at the club.

Tina sighed heavily. "I know you trust him, Kurt. But it's harder for me to do so."

Kurt frowned, hearing the pain in her words. "Tina. Tell me what's wrong. There's more to this than just a witch's instinctive distrust of hunters."

Tina's eyes closed for a moment as she reflected. "When I was in college, I interned at a clinic that emphasized the health of the whole body and mind. We worked with a lot of mortals that had been damaged by hunters."

"A witch run clinic?" Kurt asked.

"Yes," Tina nodded. "We were all activists. Calling for witches to stop hiding and start doing what we were born for. Helping mortals and standing against evil. We had a patient, a mortal woman with symptoms similar to Quinn's. The rogue who had done that to her tracked her to the clinic. He killed her and the three witches who ran the clinic." Her expression was haunted. "He sliced them up. _God, _Kurt, their screams, I can still hear them. He killed them all, but by some miracle I got away." Tina turned away from the camera and lifted her shirt. A long jagged scar marred her skin.

"Oh, my God!" Kurt gasped in shock and horror. He swallowed hard, realizing now what his friend had gone through.

Tina turned back to face him, her face pale but composed. "I learned the hard way that day that we have no choice but to hide, Kurt. Learn from my mistakes."

Kurt knew now why Tina was so careful. "Your work is still dangerous. A lot of these cults are serious threats to those who work to undo what they've done."

Tina waved a hand dismissively. "I can handle that sort of danger. Hunters are far more dangerous."

"And yet you risked talking to me with the Elvira avatar," Kurt pointed out.

"Kurt," Tina said softly, "You're my best friend. I'll do anything for you. And _I'm_ the one who screwed up. When you told me about the guy that scared you at the cemetery, I should have come to you right then and explained everything. You have every right to be pissed at me."

"I _was _a little pissed, at first," Kurt said slowly. "But not anymore. I know you did what you thought was best. And you'd been attacked yourself already by a rogue. You thought I'd be safer living the life of a mortal. That's why my mother put me with Dad. You've taken a huge risk helping Quinn. And I love you so much for it. You're my best friend, too."

Tina smiled and her eyes sparkled with tears. "How could I not help her? We always stuck together in school, this is no different." She paused for a moment, then sighed quietly. "I told her about the baby. And she told Finn."

"And are they okay?" Kurt asked. He worried about them both. Under different circumstances he might have hoped Finn would find a nice, emotionally healthy woman to settle down with. But he'd known from the first time Finn laid eyes on Quinn after all the years where his heart lay.

"Quinn is amazing. So very strong. I took her to the astral plane during hypnosis and planted some coping suggestions to help her," Tina said. "And Finn. He truly cares for her, Kurt."

Kurt nodded. "I know. I just don't want him hurt, Tina. He was so, I don't know, _disconnected _when he came home."

Tina smiled gently. "Not necessarily. He's connected to you. And I think helping you and his mom take care of Burt helped him. Don't underestimate Quinn, either. She has suffered intensive torture and some severe brain damage. But pregnancy is so powerful, Kurt. A mother's protective instincts are incredibly strong. I feel certain that the pregnancy hormones are helping to rebuild some of the damaged cells in her brain, which is probably why she has been having such strong memory flashes."

Kurt nodded. While he might not quite understand mother instinct, his mother had given her life to keep him safe. And now he had to be just as strong to protect Sammy. "How do I turn the sand in the tapestry box into something I can understand?"

"Transfer it into something of yours, something silver. That will bring your mother's spell knowledge to you. But remember, Kurt, it's a spell, not low magic. It will take time to transfer the spells to silver, and during that time, you'll be vulnerable to demons and other dangers. You need a familiar, and you don't have one." Tina's tone was concerned.

"Well, how did you do it? Don't you have a spell book?" Kurt asked her.

"Yes, but again you have to remember, my mother is alive. She gave me the spells and history bit by bit as I was growing up. And your mother's spells have been stored in a third location for all these years. We are talking using high magic to pull all those spells out all at once to fill your silver. I don't know that you'll be able to control it without a familiar."

Kurt felt an icy chill trace down his spine. He looked around Blaine's room and knew none of the speakers or cameras were on. Just the laptop, which he and Tina were using by magic. "Maybe I have one," he said in a near whisper.

_"Kurt," _Tina breathed, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "You have a familiar? No one's been able to get one in years. This is a huge breakthrough for us!"

Kurt slumped back against the pillows. "Or it's something worse. Let me tell you about my mother's theory about souls. She believed that when the blood and sex curse was cast to bind hunter souls to witches as familiars that witches and hunters had their souls halved, and each of us has a soul mirror. A soul mirror can help control magic in the same way."

Tina's eyes widened. "You and Blaine fulfilled the curse?"

"The first night we met he touched my blood. And when he was hurt, I touched his. And we've had sex." Kurt's cheeks warmed with his blush. Sex didn't really even begin to describe what he and Blaine did.

"What about the bloodlust?" Tina asked.

Kurt closed his eyes despairingly. "When he's with me, it seems like it's gone." He opened his eyes and looked at Tina with dread forming a heavy knot in his stomach. "I'm afraid I've bound him to me as my familiar."

Tina shook her head, frowning slightly. "Only animals can be a familiar. To my knowledge, no witch has ever bound a hunter or even a mortal to them. You see what happened when the demon witches tried it."

Kurt thought of the wings he'd seen on Blaine. They had certainly looked real. "What if I've turned him into an animal?"

"Wow, Kurt, that is _way_ more information about your sex life than I ever wanted to know," teased Tina before she turned serious. "I really don't think it's likely. When an earth witch causes harm with their powers, it comes back on them times three. Turning someone into an animal is definitely causing harm. But tell me more about what your mother said. What did she call it again?"

"A soul mirror," Kurt replied, explaining further. "Hunters' souls have been looking for blood and sex from the curse. Witches have been looking for familiars. And neither can fulfill that need. She believed that when we find the right hunter, that when the souls mirror each other's needs, that the soul would be whole again."

"We weren't there at the curse. But we know it has spread to all witches and hunters from that point, so all souls were pulled into it." Tina's brow furrowed in deep thought, then she reached up to close her hand around her ornate silver armband.

"What are you doing?" Kurt asked her.

"This is where I keep my witch book. I'm looking to see what I have about familiars." Tina closed her eyes for a short moment as she searched. "Everything I have about familiars says that the familiar has the right to reject the witch. I'm sure that holds true in this case with your mother's soul mirror idea."

Kurt felt a knot of fear settle in his belly. He remembered Blaine telling him about his dad and how he himself would never be a slave to the curse. _Or a witch's spell binding him as a familiar._

"I have to find out," he said to Tina imploringly. "We all need to work together. Can't you get the witch circles to accept me?"

Tina's face fell with regret. "They won't, Kurt. Not as long as you're living with a hunter and working with him."

Kurt grit his teeth in frustration; he had spent most of his life as an outsider and this was no different. "I'm sure the fact that I have a hunter for my biological father doesn't score me any points either."

"I trust you, Kurt. And one day I'll be able to convince them all that you deserve to be a part of the Circles," Tina said sympathetically. "In the meantime, I'll be your liaison."

Kurt nodded, trying not to look hurt. He knew Tina was doing the best she could. "Sure. If you could put the word out to find out what you can about soul mirrors, that'd be great."

"I will. There's a lot of knowledge on the Circles, Kurt. Maybe someone can shed some light. And don't forget you have an advantage. While there is a lot of wisdom and knowledge on the Circles, _you _can hear the Ancestors. Get your mom's spells, then work on opening your sixth chakra. If you can, and maybe you can, if your hunter has bonded to you, then you can ask the Ancestors about soul mirrors. With your sixth chakra open, you'll be able to understand them," Tina said encouragingly.

Kurt nodded absently. Even now he could hear the low murmur of voices, but wasn't able to discern any words. The only time he'd been able to was in moments of terror, like when he'd been attacked by rogues. And even then, it was only single words like _run_ and not actual communication. But if he could actually hear and understand the Ancestors...Kurt felt a wave of excitement that quickly faded. He would have to lie to Blaine. He'd have to use him to increase his power to open his higher chakras, then focus that magic. And not tell him what he was doing. He just knew he was headed for heartbreak.

"I'll try," he said softly.

Blaine's voice broke in.

"Kurt? Are you awake? Is everything okay?"

Kurt jumped at the sound of his voice, yanking the covers up to cover his nakedness. He'd been projecting his image to Tina with magic and had projected only his head, so his state of undress hasn't concerned him. "Blaine? Where are you?"

"The desktop. I tried the laptop first, but it's being blocked with magic," Blaine said.

Tina giggled. "That's my cue, I guess. I need to call Quinn and check on her. Get her scheduled for another appointment. I'll talk to you soon, Kurt." And with that, her image faded.

Blaine's face took its place and the webcam popped on. "I wanted to check...oh. Wow. Hi."

Kurt blushed when he realized he had let go of the covers and they were pooled low at his waist, exposing his bare skin to Blaine. Using magic, he summoned his clothing from the night before. In seconds his body was fully clothed.

"Most impressive, but I think I preferred you without clothes. I like seeing you in my bed," Blaine's voice lowered to a sensual purr.

Kurt tried to calm his heartbeat, which had quickened when he heard Blaine's voice. "You let me sleep. I needed to work on the tapestry."

Blaine's brows snapped together in a concerned frown. "You needed the sleep. And this morning, you need to eat."

"Now how did I ever survive living my life all this time without you?" Kurt asked dryly.

The grin that lit up Blaine's face nearly took Kurt's breath away.

"I'm not sure. It's a mystery," Blaine chuckled.

Kurt nearly swooned. Damn, Blaine was sexy like this. Who was he kidding; Blaine was sexy _all _the time. "Cocky hunter," he said loftily, trying to appear nonchalant.

"Touchy witch," Blaine shot back, eyes dancing mischievously.

Kurt couldn't help but smile. "You know, I could probably cast a spell to make you hit yourself with your hammer. Over and over. All day."

"Ohhhh, but I'd have to get even with you for that one," Blaine laughed. "Care to test me?"

Kurt laughed, too, wondering what Blaine would do. Then he sobered, wondering what exactly it was _he _was doing. He needed to be working on getting the spells from the tapestry and healing Sammy, not flirting with Blaine. "Did you need something?"

Blaine shifted, sensing Kurt's sudden mood change. "Well, no, I...I had a feeling you were worried or upset about something." He shrugged and looked a little embarrassed.

Kurt sighed. "Not upset, exactly; just annoyed that being a half breed keeps me out of the cool witches club."

Blaine's eyes hardened. "You aren't a half anything, Kurt. You're one hundred percent earth witch. Fuck them."

Kurt smiled half-heartedly. "Tina's working with the Circle witches for me. I need all the assistance I can get. I have to get those spells from the tapestry today."

Blaine ran his hand through his curls, looking worried. "Okay. I'm at the club, so if you need anything, call me. See ya." And the connection ended.

Kurt knew Blaine was worried. On top of having to do all the repairs to the club, he and the Warbler Hunters were tracking the demon witch that had cursed Sammy, as well as keeping tabs on the rogues and what they were doing. Kurt sighed to himself and threw back the covers. He went into the closet to head downstairs to his room. He needed a hot shower and a change of clothes before he got started. Food could wait.

When he walked into his room, he stopped short just inside the door. Finn was laying across the bed there watching something on the laptop. His normally genial face was troubled and it was obvious he wasn't paying much attention to what was on the screen.

"Isn't there a TV in your room?" Kurt asked, feeling sure he knew why Finn was there.

"Hey, bro. I came to talk to you, but obviously you didn't sleep here. I never guessed I'd ever catch you doing the Walk Of Shame," Finn said in a weak attempt at humor. He looked tired and his brow was furrowed with worry lines.

Kurt didn't offer any explanation. Brother or not, there were things that Finn didn't need to know. He was a grown man and what happened between himself and Blaine was between them. "So what's up?" he asked.

Finn pushed the laptop to the side and got up to pace the small room restlessly. "Quinn's pregnant," he said, running a hand through his already mussed hair. He paused his pacing to look evenly at Kurt. "And you knew, didn't you. That's what you saw when you touched her yesterday."

Kurt perched carefully on one of the stools at the counter and crossed his arms. "Yeah, I saw it."

Finn resumed his pacing. "That's why her husband didn't kill her, isn't it. He's keeping her alive to breed his kid."

Kurt followed Finn around the room with his eyes. "You care about her."

Finn stopped pacing and plopped down on the bed with a loud exhale. "At first it was just remembering how she was in high school. She was so hot, so out of reach."

"The one girl you couldn't get," said Kurt with a raise of his eyebrow.

"I guess," Finn said with a small smirk that quickly faded. "But then I went into the military."

Kurt stayed silent. Finn hardly ever spoke about his time in service and he didn't want to interrupt him.

"It was hell," Finn said quietly. "And I lost myself after a while."

Kurt moved closer to stand at the foot of the bed. He could feel emotions moving off of Finn in waves, stronger now than they had been in ages. "What happened?" he asked.

Finn looked at the floor and was silent for a long moment before answering. "I fell in love with a woman over there. She was a nurse with the Red Cross. And she was killed in the line of duty."

Kurt felt a deep ache in his chest at Finn's quiet words. He now knew the identity of one of the deeply controlled emotions he felt in his brother: grief. He hated that Finn had suffered this. Suffered it alone. "I'm so sorry."

Finn stiffened momentarily, and then slumped over, resting his elbows on his knees and hanging his head. "I wasn't there when it happened. I was on a mission in the field. Hell, I didn't even find out until after they'd shipped her body home. And she died without knowing how I truly felt about her."

Kurt knelt down in front of Finn and wrapped his arms around him. He could feel anger and grief pouring off of Finn, and he drew the painful feelings to himself while sending back calming, healing energy in return.

Finn relaxed in Kurt's embrace. "You're doing something right now. Magic."

"Yes," Kurt answered softly, unwilling to lie to him.

Finn pulled back, causing Kurt to release him from his hug. He put a hand on Kurt's shoulder. "The day I found out she was dead, everything changed for me. My world turned gray and I couldn't tell the difference anymore between things that mattered or didn't-between right and wrong."

Kurt shook his head. "That's not true. We may not be blood, Finn, but you're my brother. I know you. I can believe that your world went gray, but you have always stood for what was right when all was said and done. Don't devalue yourself like that. I won't allow it."

Finn took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes. "Thanks." He opened his eyes to look directly at Kurt. "Quinn brings color to my world. I won't lie to you, at first my feelings were old fashioned male interest and the idea of 'the one that got away,' like you said. But as time has passed...look. Tina said that most mortals who have been through what Quinn has have lost their minds completely. Most end up killing themselves if they aren't killed first. And then here's Quinn. Alone and afraid, but fighting with everything she's got. She makes me want to live. She makes me want to be the man who's strong enough to match her courage, to deserve her."

Kurt could feel one emotion surging forward to separate itself from the others inside of Finn. "You love her."

"Yeah. I do." Finn's voice was steady and held no doubt.

Kurt had to be sure Finn was being realistic. "And now there's a baby involved."

Finn nodded. "Yep, it's a big fucked-up mess, but I still want her. I won't walk away from her, Kurt. Everything seems so crazy. You're a witch. There are such things as witch hunters. Quinn married to and knocked up by a rogue hunter. Yet somehow, it makes sense to me. And my role in this is to love and protect Quinn and her baby."

Kurt nodded. He understood what Finn was saying. He had gone through most of his life looking for a place to belong and a purpose. Now he knew he was a witch and he had the job of healing Sammy. That was his purpose right now. And if Quinn was what gave Finn purpose, then Kurt supported them. "So what's next?"

"Tina wants to see her again today. We'll deal with each day as it comes, I guess."

Kurt had seen a small portion of just what Quinn had been through. "She's going to be skittish of you physically at first, Finn. Any woman that has been through what she has would be."

Finn quirked a brow at Kurt. "You're sleeping with a man who's cursed with a craving to kill you for your blood. But I assume you just came from his bed, unless you'd like to correct me?"

A wave of heat washed over Kurt. Not of embarrassment, but _heat. _He trusted Blaine with his body, so very much. And the emotion scared him. He had always been rejected because of who he was in the past. But he was sure of this. "Blaine won't hurt me, Finn. Not like that. He won't give in to the curse."

"But how do you know?" Finn asked him, appearing as though he was trying not to sound skeptical.

Kurt considered for a moment. It was so many things. The way Blaine touched him. Looked at him. Protected him. "I just know."

"Okay. So last night, Quinn had another nightmare. This time, she came to me. I pulled back the covers and she got into my bed with me-where she felt safe, where she _is _safe. And when she's ready for more, she'll tell me. I just know," Finn echoed Kurt's words emphatically.

Kurt smiled at his brother. "Quinn knows somewhere deep inside that you are a man she can trust. She is lucky to have you, you know."

Finns cheeks reddened as he blushed. "Well, after having a witch for a brother, Quinn is almost pretty normal." He stood to leave, then shot Kurt a mischievous grin that made him look like himself again. "You've got some serious bed head going on, dude. And thank God the rooms here seem to be sound proof, because the last thing I wanna hear is my brother getting laid. Hit the shower, yeah?"

Laughing, Finn turned to leave when he was suddenly doused with icy cold water.

"Hey!" he sputtered in protest, turning to glare at Kurt.

Kurt grinned unapologetically. "It kicks ass to be a witch sometimes."

* * *

Blaine walked into the house late in the afternoon. Sammy was huddled on the couch under three blankets and clutching her Tigger. She looked up at him and he nearly lost his breath as his lungs burned with rage at how sickly she looked. Her eyes were sunken in her wan face and her curly hair hung in lifeless and dull tangles.

"The TV keeps blinking on and off," she said before dissolving into a coughing fit.

Blaine went quickly to her and rubbed her back to help her through it. He saw the TV flicker, then turn back on again. When he brushed back Sammy's bangs, the death mark had darkened to a dark port red color. Her lips were dry and cracked and her eyes were a muddy brown. Blaine just barely managed to keep his anger in check as he reached for the water bottle on the end table, but his hands were gentle as he raised Sammy and helped her take a few small sips of water.

The TV flickered on and off again, and Blaine looked at it curiously. "I see what you mean. How long has it been doing that?"

Sammy shrugged weakly as she settled back on her pillow. "All day, I think. Mommy says Kurt's doing it."

"I see." Blaine guessed Kurt was having trouble getting the spells from the tapestry. A familiar had never shown up, and Kurt was having difficulty focusing his powers to access high magic and control it. Blaine looked at his sick sister and felt an anxious twinge. Sammy needed the spell that would heal her, and she needed it quickly.

"He's talking to himself, too. I heard him say a bad word," Sammy said, looking at him with a serious expression.

Blaine blinked at her. "You snuck downstairs?"

Sammy nodded. "Kurt makes me feel better. The shadows are afraid of him. He makes me tea and talks to me and Tigger. Tigger likes him."

And so did Sammy. It was obvious to Blaine that his sister adored Kurt. The TV flickered again, and this time Blaine actually heard Kurt unleash a string of several swear words. Sammy giggled then coughed again. Even though her coughing this time was less violent than before, she still looked exhausted.

Blaine looked up as Deirdre walked in with a small mug of tea. "Here, sweetie. I made you some of the tea Kurt says you like." She helped Sammy sit up and handed her the mug. Sammy took it with both hands and took a small sip.

Deirdre looked at Blaine. "Kurt's been working all day trying to get the spells to transfer for him. It isn't going well."

Blaine glanced at the ceiling as the lights went off and on. Kurt's energy must be getting wilder and less focused. "I'd better go check on him."

Deirdre followed him to his bedroom. "You know about Quinn, right?"

Blaine nodded. "Yeah, Kurt told me last night."

Deirdre reached out to touch Blaine's shoulder. "Her husband will come after her. And he'll find her. I know he will."

Blaine knew she was right. Deirdre had stayed with Damian until he tried to turn Blaine rogue. After that happened, Deirdre had taken Blaine and they had run, gone into hiding. Apparently over the next several years Damian had tried to get other women pregnant to try to replace Blaine, but it never happened. So he had tracked down Deirdre and managed to seduce her. It seemed crazy that such a thing could happen to someone as strong and independent as his mother, but Blaine knew witch hunters gave off special pheromones to attract partners as a part of the sex part of the curse. It happened all the time.

Blaine also had a suspicion that Deirdre had been afraid of what Damian might do to _him_ if she didn't cooperate. When the baby turned out to be a girl and Damian found out, he was disgusted and furious. But he left Deirdre alone after that.

Quinn was another matter, though. Blaine was sure Deirdre was right and Antonio Mireles would find her. He placed a comforting hand over his mother's. "I hope he does. That way I can have the satisfaction of turning him into a shade for all eternity. After what he did to her, I look forward to it."

Deirdre's eyes shimmered with unshed tears. "That's what The Slayer wants you to do, I just know it. He wants you to protect the innocent. That's what you were born to do."

Blaine looked at his mother. She sounded so sure. "How do you know?"

She gave him a tremulous smile. "Faith, sweetheart. Sometimes you need faith to make the right choices in life. There's always a choice. Before the curse, your father and many other hunters were refusing to do what the hawk said. They were lax in their duties and making bad and selfish choices. Alistair Young wasn't the first hunter to get sidetracked in the line of his duty, he was just the first one to get caught by demon witches. And now, here you are. Making hard choices and trying to do what's right. Fighting against the curse. You're no longer struggling with the bloodlust, even though you had Kurt in your room all night."

Blaine wanted to believe, so much. "If Sammy survives, I'll have faith. If we lose her, I'll know it's a load of bullshit."

Deirdre flinched, looking stricken. "No. She's not going to die!"

"No, she's not. I won't let her," Blaine said determinedly. "We have leads on demon witches, should it come to that."

Deirdre's face paled further and the tears that had been threatening finally spilled over. "Blaine..."

"No, Mom," Blaine said, shaking his head. "You don't have any say in this. If Kurt can't uncurse Sammy, then I will. And if The Slayer wants to take my soul for doing that, well, he's just as bad as rogues and demon witches." His face softened, and he raised one hand to gently wipe tears off his mother's face. "Have faith, remember? Kurt is powerful. He can do this."

Blaine turned and went through the closet to go downstairs. As soon as he got to the bottom of the steps, he was hit by a huge wave of power. It spread over his skin in a wild rush that swirled and dissipated quickly. He could feel immediately that it was completely unfocused. He strode quickly to Kurt's room and looked in. Kurt was standing in the middle of a small windstorm that ruffled his already tousled hair. Small amounts of sand were scattered all over the room. Kurt's t-shirt lay rumpled and discarded on the bed and his loose fitting yoga pants were low on his hips. His feet were bare on the tile floor, which was normally cold since the lower level was cooler than the upstairs. But Kurt looked warm. And _hot._

Blaine could see the light sheen of sweat on Kurt's forehead and upper lip. His windblown hair curled slightly at the neck in damp tendrils and droplets of sweat clung to his toned back. Blaine stared in fascination as a single drop of sweat trickled its way down to the waist of Kurt's pants where the material was darker with soaked up moisture. Kurt shifted, causing his leg muscles to flex. Blaine loved the feeling of those muscular thighs wrapped around his waist, holding him tight while he moved in and out of the perfect tightness of that ass.

As though he had heard Blaine's thoughts, Kurt turned around to look at Blaine. He raised a hand to wipe sweat from his forehead. "Blaine."

Kurt's voice was a lower timbre than normal and throbbed with energy. Blaine could feel Kurt's energy swirling around him, lightly touching and teasing, then skittering away. It was driving him crazy. All he could see was Kurt, whose intoxicating scent captured him and drew him in. He moved closer to him, his feet making no noise on the sand covered tile floor.

"I've tried, but I just can't do it by myself," Kurt said, panting slightly with exertion and frustration. "Tina has been coaching me the best she can, but she can only do so much. I can open my fifth chakra, but that's where I lose the control. Maybe I need my sixth chakra, but I can't get it open."

Blaine wanted to help him. _Needed _to help him. "Maybe you need a break? I can feel your powers; they're all scattered and unfocused."

Kurt looked dejected. "No. I don't need a break. I need _you._ I need your help."

Blaine felt the wings of his hawk ruffle and spread in happiness, responding to Kurt as they always did. He didn't freak out over it anymore; it just was what it was. "You know I'll help you. What do you need from me?"

Kurt looked away from him for a brief moment, then focused on him again, face and eyes determined. "I need you to touch me and help me focus. Last night when you touched me, we formed some sort of mind link. I have a feeling that somehow that will help." He reached up to touch the silver necklace hanging around his neck.

Blaine reached out to touch it as well. "It's warm. Warm with magic," he said wonderingly. Being this close to Kurt with magic and heat surrounding them was causing Blaine's body to tighten with need, but he ignored it. His tattoo fluttered again with the desire to _touch. Protect. Help. _When Kurt stared into his eyes, blue and hazel interlocked, Blaine leaned in to kiss him. He kept his fingers wrapped around Kurt's necklace as he licked lightly at his lips before plunging his tongue in to taste him.

Kurt raised both hands to Blaine's shoulders, kissing him back with enough ferocity to make him groan against his mouth. Blaine's body filled with the vibrating heat of Kurt's magic. It wasn't something he could actually touch, but he could feel it from his head to his toes and everywhere in between, especially the raging hard on straining against his jeans. But Blaine forced his mind from sex and nuzzled Kurt's ear before pulling back to look at him. "We'll make this happen. Together. Are you ready to give it another shot?"

Kurt's eyes swirled with golds and greens, and his silvery witch shimmer nearly shone in its intensity. "I'm ready. I need you close to me, touching me."

Blaine was a mere breath away from stripping Kurt's yoga pants down and getting as close to him as he could–deep inside him. He let go of Kurt's necklace.

Kurt's eyes widened, looking alarmed for a moment. "No, don't let go of me!"

Blaine felt Kurt's voice touch him deep inside, so deep he knew it had to be real and not just magic. "I'm not letting go. I've got you, sweet witch. Set your magic free." He shifted to stand behind Kurt and put his arms around him, crossing them just above his belly. He felt Kurt take a deep breath.

"Hawk? He's here?" Kurt asked.

Blaine felt his tattoo ripple beneath his skin again. "He's here. Can you feel him?" Blaine tried to open his mind and let Kurt feel what he did, just as it had last night when they had been in his bed.

"Yes," Kurt breathed as he leaned back against Blaine. "I don't know the spell to use, so I am just opening myself and calling the magic."

Blaine held him tighter. Kurt was where he belonged, in his arms so he could protect him. "Go ahead. Call the spells to your necklace."

Kurt raised his arms towards the tapestry. His witch shimmer brightened to a fiery glow. "Ancestors, I beg of you. Help me move the gift of my mother's spells into my silver necklace."

Blaine closed his eyes as the hum of magic rose up inside him. Kurt's thoughts and memories swirled around him and for a second he saw Kurt as a small boy, terrified and locked in a small, dark place. The image quickly vanished, but Blaine knew that the memory was what was holding Kurt back. He had always been told he was evil and wrong whenever he had done anything magical. It pissed him off, his anger being echoed by the furious screech of his hawk.

"There's no evil in you, love. You are an earth witch. Feel it. Embrace it. Show me, Kurt. _Open_ for me," Blaine whispered, his body shuddering with the force of magic and memory of Kurt in his bed, opening for him in the most exquisite way. "Let the power have you."

Kurt's body jerked once with a surge of power and he tossed his head back against Blaine's shoulder. Blaine stared at him, enraptured and unable to tear his eyes away until a loud clap of thunder brought his attention to the tapestry. The silver box was glowing and all the sand in it was melting into a sparkling liquid. He heard Kurt gasp as his shimmery glow grew even brighter and more intense, and the entire room shivered with magic.

Blaine's heartbeat matched the throb of Kurt's witch energy rushing through him. As the magic increased, so did the sexual energy between them, growing stronger and more intense until Blaine teetered on the razor sharp edge of release. But he didn't care. Nothing mattered to him but the witch in his arms. The sweet vanilla scent of Kurt was burgeoning and mixing with the spicy cinnamon scent of his desire. Blaine knew that if he did nothing more than brush his fingers over Kurt's hard cock, he'd come. He made himself breathe deeply and evenly. Made himself keep his hands where they were and just hold Kurt. But _God, _he wanted to stroke Kurt until he came hot and wet over his hand.

A sudden cold shift in the heated air of the room chased away all Blaine's sexual thoughts. The light in the room dimmed and the wild wind grew even harsher. Danger screamed along the surface of Blaine's skin and his eyes flew open as every hunter instinct he had sharpened to intense awareness. A sudden stutter in the witch energy streaming through him warned him that some outside force was trying to get in. Blaine looked around the room, searching or the source. In the open doorway a dark shadow was forming and growing bigger, taking form of something with three heads that had glowing red, malevolent eyes.

Blaine heard the thundering scream of his hawk. _Demon! _He tightened his grip on Kurt. _Mine! I'll kill anything that threatens him!_

As Blaine stared at the door, it began to tremble then suddenly slammed shut. The dark shadow vanished and Blaine felt the hawk settle on his back. The light in the room returned to its former brightness and allowed Kurt's witch energy to flow free again. How the hell had a demon appeared? With three heads..._Asmodeus. _How had Kurt summoned _any _demon, much less the demon that originated the blood curse?

A loud crack of thunder brought Blaine's attention back to the tapestry again. An arc of lightening shot from the silver box to Kurt's silver necklace followed by yet another thunderous boom. It was like nothing he had ever seen or felt before.

The impact of light on the necklace was like a physical blow and Kurt gasped as he literally trembled with it. He could feel Blaine holding him steady as the pure, continuous beam of lightening sizzled with magic, flashing a brilliant multitude of colors. It ramped up his sexual energy, and judging by the insistent press of Blaine's cock against his ass, the same was true for him. Kurt moaned as lust and need threatened to overwhelm him entirely, and he rolled his hips, desperate for more contact. He heard Blaine groan and press harder against him in response.

"Soon, Kurt, I promise," Blaine growled, his voice low and shaking with his own barely restrained desire. "Let the magic fill you."

Finally, the beam of light grew thin and disappeared with a bright explosion of colors into Kurt's necklace. With a final clap of thunder, the lid on the silver box in the tapestry slammed shut as the gusting wind died down to nothing.

* * *

Kurt ached all over. His skin was hot and tight, and he gasped for air, unable to take in a full breath. His harsh pants were loud in the suddenly quiet room. His necklace was heavier than before and hot against his skin. "It's finished," he whispered.

"Not yet." Blaine skimmed a hand up to tease at one of Kurt's nipples, causing him to moan, while the other slid down his taut stomach and over his hip, then across his thigh to cup his hard cock.

Kurt felt a shock of power center where Blaine touched him and writhed against it. "Too much," he hissed even as he moved to settle Blaine's hard on between the cheeks of his ass.

"You need release. And I need to touch you. I have to feel your desire, your pleasure," Blaine ground out as he shoved Kurt's yoga pants and briefs to the floor with both hands. Using one arm to brace Kurt against him, he licked his hand before reaching down to take Kurt's hard cock in his hand.

Kurt gasped as he felt Blaine stroking him, wrapping one arm back around Blaine's neck while holding to the strong arm that held him. At Blaine's touch, sparks of pleasure popped all over his sensitive skin. "Blaine, I can't control it."

"Shhh, all you have to do is feel," Blaine whispered as he moved his hand in a steady rhythm. He slid his thumb lightly over the head of Kurt's cock, taking the precome gathered there and spreading it. His hand moved easier and his tightened his grip ever so slightly as he quickened his movement. Kurt's body bucked as his hips thrust forward.

Blaine pressed an open mouthed kiss to Kurt's neck, tasting the salty tang of sweat on his skin. "Kurt, baby, give it to me. Give me _everything_." His aching cock throbbed against the confines of his jeans zipper, and each time Kurt writhed or pressed against him, the pressure seemed to build.

Kurt tightened the arm around Blaine's neck as he gave himself over to him, moving against his hand and desperate for the promised relief. The pressure inside him swirled and throbbed to a roaring crescendo, and each breath that left him was a throaty 'hunhh, hunhh' that grew louder as his release grew closer. His body grew tight for a mere breath of a moment before a twisting stroke from Blaine caused his orgasm to crash over him and sweep him away.

"That's it, baby. _More_. Let it go," Blaine encouraged, feeling the excess energy pouring off of Kurt with each pulse of pleasure, each warm stripe that covered his hand. He shuddered with the force of his own desire, and when Kurt melted bonelessly in his arms, he scooped him up and carried him to the bathroom. He gently set Kurt on the closed toilet lid and started the shower.

"Will you need my help getting in..." Blaine's voice trailed off as Kurt used his powers to make his clothing disappear. He stood naked in front of Kurt, watching his blue eyes dilate and darken even more.

Kurt stared at Blaine. His chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing and high color was on his face. His muscles rippled as he shifted on his feet, and his cock was hard and full of need. Kurt reached out to stroke it with his fingertips and felt a wave of power surge through him. Blaine's cock gave a hard twitch in answer. Kurt dropped to his knees on the floor. He licked a wide stripe up the underside of Blaine's cock and drew his tongue across the sensitive tip, teasing at the slit and tasting the saltiness of precome. Blaine's moan encouraged him and set fire to him again. Kurt had to have him, all of him. He wrapped his lips around the head of Blaine's cock and gave a light suck before sliding further and taking more of him in.

Blaine breathed in slowly then let out another moan, louder this time. The sound of his pleasure excited Kurt. But the feelings washing off of him to sink into Kurt took him to another level; he could _feel _that Blaine loved the feel of his mouth, of his hand, but even caught up in this intense sexual desire, Blaine's first thought was of Kurt. His comfort. His protection.

Just Kurt.

No man from his past had ever thought of Kurt first. He moved steadily, licking at Blaine as he moved his mouth up and down the hard shaft. He hollowed his cheeks and sucked gently at the head. As he slid his mouth forward to draw Blaine in again, he raised his hand to cup his balls, pouring his magic into his fingers and tongue.

Blaine spread his feet further apart and slapped both hands on the wall behind Kurt. "Jesus Christ, Kurt."

Except Kurt was positive he hadn't said the words out loud. Inside his head, he whispered, "Come on, Blaine. Come for me, baby."

Blaine's entire body shivered with intense pleasure. He threw his head back as he gave himself over to the magical touch and tongue of his witch. One hand moved down to tangle in Kurt's chestnut hair, and he thrust his hips. Once, twice...

_"Kurt..."_

Blaine growled low in his throat as he came in hot spurts down Kurt's throat. Giving, letting him take as much as he could.

With Blaine's orgasm came the fierce need to help and protect him. Kurt could feel that and hot satisfaction mixing in with Blaine's desire to drive his cock deep inside him, even though they had both just come. And deep down, so deep it hadn't yet made its way to his consciousness, was the dark thread of suspicion. Kurt knew it would work its way up. And the sorrow was nearly too much for him to bear. He didn't want to hurt Blaine, and he didn't want to lose this new intimacy, trust and connection with him.

Blaine reached down to pull Kurt to his feet and pressed their mouths together in a hot, hungry kiss. Kurt's mind pushed away his sorrowful thoughts and shifted again to silvery pleasure and joy in feeling Blaine merge with him, body and soul.

Blaine pulled away to look at Kurt, eyes dropping to his lush, kiss swollen lips before raising back to stare hungrily into his eyes. "I can't get enough of you."

After stepping into the shower, Blaine offered his hand to Kurt. When Kurt stepped in, he moved them both under the cascading water and began kissing him again. His hands slid easily down Kurt's back, moving smoothly over wet skin to cup the firm roundness of his ass. He moved a finger to circle at Kurt's hole before pressing in, moving in and out as water poured over them both. As Kurt relaxed and his finger moved more easily, Blaine added a second finger, and before long was able to add a third. He gave a little twist and crooked his fingers, smiling triumphantly when Kurt gasped and shuddered in his arms.

"Again. _Now._ I want you. I want you so bad," Blaine whispered as he slowly worked Kurt open with his fingers. He moved to suck at the sensitive area just below Kurt's ear, the combined sensations causing Kurt to moan his name encouragingly. When he felt he had Kurt ready for him, Blaine turned Kurt to face the tiled shower wall, taking each of hands and pressing them to the wall and holding them there. He thrust his hips against Kurt lightly, rubbing his hard cock teasingly between the cheeks of Kurt's ass and against his stretched hole.

_"Blaine,"_ Kurt groaned in a needy whisper, unsure if he had even heard him. He growled in frustration as Blaine continued to tease him, nipping at his neck and licking the sensitive area below his ear as he kept rubbing the head of his cock against Kurt's stretched and ready hole.

"Please," Kurt managed to gasp. Blaine was driving him insane. His fingers scrabbled against the wet tile as Blaine finally moved his hips to line up to Kurt and press forward with a thrust. Kurt shuddered when he felt the head of Blaine's huge cock slide into him, stretching him and making him want even more, want Blaine to be in him completely, so deep that Kurt was filled with him. He felt Blaine draw back and thrust again, harder this time and going deeper. Another thrust angled upward brushed across the sensitive spot deep inside him, and Kurt saw flashes that had nothing to do with his magic.

"Oh my God, Blaine!"

Blaine ran his tongue across the width of Kurt's shoulders and tightened his grip on Kurt's hands when he felt his tight heat clench around his hard cock.

"_Mmmmmm_. Do you like that, sexy witch? Is that good? You feel amazing around my cock right now, so tight and perfect. I love fucking you." He looked down and watched his dick moving in and out of Kurt, still amazed that Kurt could take all of him. Hot water continued to pour over them and the sound of wet skin moving against wet skin was even hotter.

Kurt moaned, loving the dirty words spilling from Blaine's lips. He let Blaine slide their hands close together and didn't protest when Blaine arranged his hands together on the wall above his head. Blaine held his hands captive as the other slid down to stroke his cock, matching the rhythm of his cock moving deep inside him.

"Fucking gorgeous," Blaine breathed in his ear.

Kurt's eyes flew open and he made a low noise of protest at the sudden emptiness as Blaine unexpectedly moved back and pulled out of him completely. "What-" he began, only to cut his words off with a gasp as Blaine flipped him around to face him and slammed their mouths together.

Blaine ravished his mouth, their kissing sloppy with too much teeth and tongue, but incredible in its intensity. Blaine raised one of Kurt's legs to wrap it around his waist, then pulled at the other, encouraging him to wrap both around him. Kurt made a small noise of surprise, but quickly acquiesced. With nothing but his back pressed against the wet shower wall, Kurt wrapped both arms around Blaine's neck, earning an approving groan from him, and held on tight as Blaine slid back into him.

"So good, so hot for me," Blaine groaned as Kurt's welcoming body accepted him again. He braced himself and took hold of Kurt's thighs as he snapped his hips forward in a deep thrust that had them both moaning loudly. This angle was perfect for Kurt as each thrust of Blaine's hips caused his cock to hit that spot over and over. He tossed his head back and moaned as Blaine leaned forward to suck a deep bruise to his neck. He could feel the tightening sensation in his balls and knew he was close. Holding tightly to Blaine's neck with one arm, Kurt reached between them to stroke his cock.

"Yeah, that's it, baby. Make yourself come. Come for me. _Christ,_ you're beautiful like this," Blaine growled, knowing he was close and wanting Kurt to come first. He watched with triumphant satisfaction as a deep thrust caused Kurt's eyes to roll back in his head and he felt the heated surge of magic wash over them both as Kurt found his release. Blaine captured Kurt's mouth, groaning his own release against his lips. They stayed like that for a short time, Blaine's cock still buried deep inside Kurt's ass and their lips pressed together in languid kisses.

Eventually, Blaine pulled out of Kurt, both of them hissing slightly at the change in sensation. He supported Kurt as he released his legs' hold around his waist. Kurt managed to get his feet on the floor of the tub and was able to stand on his own, though he didn't want to admit that he felt wobbly and was lucky to not have collapsed into a boneless heap instead. They quickly cleaned themselves up, taking turns under the shower head, shampooing their hair and bathing.

When they finished, Blaine wrapped a towel around his waist and took his clothes from the neat pile Kurt had magically placed them in earlier. He pressed a quick kiss to Kurt's lips and headed for his room to change clothes and check on Sammy. Kurt got dressed and mentally prepared himself. Now that he had his mother's spell book, he had work to do.

* * *

Kurt sat on one of the stools at the work table. He was glad Blaine was upstairs, because he needed some time to think. Everything was almost overwhelming. During the transfer of magic, all the knowledge in Elizabeth's spell book had flooded him. Some of it had stuck with him, while some he hadn't quite been able to hold on to as it flowed through his chakras.

Now he needed to see if he was able to access the spells in his necklace. He knew he was at a disadvantage. Witches learned magic as they grew up, and even if their mother died, another witch would take over the teaching process. As they learned, spells and knowledge were added to their witch books bit by bit.

Kurt took a deep breath. He sat on the floor, wearing a white v-neck t-shirt and jeans. His feet were bare. He glanced at the candles he had placed around him, lighting each one with his fire chakra. Red for earth. Orange for water. Yellow for fire. Green for air. Moving into high magic, he lit a blue candle for communication with the spirit realm.

He felt a tickling, spinning sensation at his throat as his fifth chakra opened. His spine vibrated as low and high magic met, and he took a moment to adjust to the new and different feeling. Once he felt settled, Kurt focused on the indigo candle that represented the sixth chakra.

Nothing. The candle remained unlit and the chakra located in his forehead remained closed.

Kurt breathed in calmly and deeply. He felt his power rising through his first four chakras and flowing down through the fifth one. He held the connection, determined to get the sixth chakra opened. Staring at the violet candle, the one for knowledge, he focused on the unlit wick. With a bright flare, the candle lit. But the chakra at the top of his head remained closed.

Sighing, Kurt closed his eyes and placed his hands in his lap. He focused on the silver necklace at his throat. The silver warmed and expanded against his skin. He directed more of his energy into it, remembering Tina's words about the backlash principle when he had touched Quinn. By pouring his energy into the necklace, he would force an exchange.

He saw his mother's memory of summoning a familiar. Elizabeth stood on an unfamiliar secluded beach somewhere. The moonlight danced on the water as waves lapped the shore. He watched as Elizabeth raised her arms high and arched back, her long tresses blown around her by the wind as she let the power flow through her.

Kurt felt his stomach knot as he watched the scene unfold before him. He already knew what would happen. Elizabeth had told him. A man dressed in black walked toward her. He was tall with windblown hair. As he got close to Elizabeth, Kurt could see his face. He had the softer facial lines of a rogue. His eyes were dark and his lips sensual and full.

Kurt's eyes flew open, severing the connection. His hands shook in his lap. He had seen his father.

The man who had killed his mother. Who wanted to kill him.

Kurt's hands were cold and clammy. His head throbbed with a dull pounding ache. But he had to try again. He needed to find a spell to break the death curse. He looked at each candle, centering himself and touching each chakra, except those that remained closed. He closed his eyes and concentrated, again focusing his energy into the necklace.

This time, he tried to let different images move through him instead of focusing on them. It was difficult not to watch his mother, but he let the impressions of the past move by him until he came to one of a younger version of Elizabeth standing on a beach facing a man with the dark mark on his forehead.

The death curse.

Kurt turned his focus hard onto that particular image and playing it out. He watched as witches gathered behind his mother, then focused carefully as Elizabeth did the spell to break the curse. Once he had what he needed, he pulled away and opened his eyes.

To his surprise, Blaine was there, crouched on the other side of the candles and watching him. "Hi," Kurt said, his voice coming out as a dry croak as though he hadn't used it in some time. "What are you doing?"

"I came to check on you. You were in some sort of trance, so I waited," Blaine answered. "I don't want you staying down here. Come upstairs, okay? I'm making spaghetti."

Kurt's stomach gave an embarrassingly loud growl at the mention of food.

"What were you doing?" Blaine asked curiously.

"Finding the spell to heal Sammy," Kurt said. He lifted a hand and closed his fingers into a loose fist. All of the candles went out.

Blaine wrapped his fingers around Kurt's hand, stood and pulled to help him to his feet. He frowned in concern. "Your hand is shaking," he said as he threaded their fingers together and tugged Kurt out of the room to go upstairs.

"I was in my mother's memory. I saw my father." Kurt shuddered as the mental image flashed through his mind again.

"_That's _in your witch book?" Blaine questioned.

Kurt hesitated for a moment, realizing he was on dangerous ground here. Until he healed Sammy, he couldn't tell Blaine about soul mirrors. "It isn't exactly like an actual book. If my mother had lived, she would have taught me spells one by one. But since she couldn't, she transferred her memories of doing witchcraft into the tapestry instead. I saw her memory of the first time meeting my father, which was the time she used a sleeping charm on him to get away." He had pulled out of the memory before seeing that part. As they walked into the kitchen, the rich smell of spaghetti sauce filled the room and his stomach rumbled loudly again.

Blaine let go of Kurt's hand to cross over to the stove. A large pot was filled with water on one eye, and sauce bubbled and simmered in a smaller pot on the next eye. A box of spaghetti noodles was on the counter next to a bottle of wine and two glasses. Blaine took a spoon and stirred the sauce, then took a cookie sheet from a cabinet.

"Dare I hope that's for garlic bread?" Kurt asked him.

Blaine glared at the pot of water on the stove and huffed in annoyance. "Yeah. It'll probably burn because the damned water is taking too long to boil."

Kurt hid his smile at Blaine's aggravation. "Go ahead and put it in the oven, then stand aside."

Blaine stuck the bread in the oven then poured the wine. He handed one to Kurt, then leaned back against the counter to watch.

Kurt raised his hand over the pot of barely warmed water and focused his energy, keeping a steady flow directed towards the water. A minute later, the water was in a full rolling boil. He opened the box of spaghetti and added it, then turned back to Blaine. He had moved to the butcher block and was slicing cheese.

Damn, he was starving. Between sex and magic, Kurt had worked up a huge appetite. Blaine chuckled as a slice of cheese rose off the cutting board and sailed towards Kurt. He caught it in mid-air and popped it in his mouth. "Oh, my _God,_" he moaned as the rich flavor of cheddar flooded his mouth. It was delicious. He washed it down with a sip of wine.

Blaine stirred the spaghetti and the sauce again before picking up his own glass of wine. "Were you able to find the spell to heal Sammy?"

Kurt nodded as he handed Blaine a cracker topped with a cheese slice. "I saw the spell to break the curse, but I want to study it a little more tonight. And I need to try to get my sixth chakra open so I can communicate with the Ancestors. I need their help to break the curse."

Blaine swallowed the cheese and cracker he'd been chewing. "And how do you do that?" he asked curiously.

Kurt shrugged as he traced the rim of his wineglass. "I'm not really sure. Keep trying. Maybe it's in the necklace somewhere. Tina is checking with the Circle witches. Some of them are old enough to remember from before the curse."

"Okay and what about the spell? Tell me about it," Blaine said.

"It's a ceremony. We need to do it somewhere under the moonlight and along a ley line," Kurt explained.

"And what's a ley line?" asked Blaine as he drained the spaghetti noodles in the colander and dumped them in a large bowl.

"It's a power point where the earth's powers gather. Where water meets land on the shore, or an old graveyard where life and death meet. The magic comes in bringing the earth's power through the ley lines up through me to meet the pull of the moon. I add the power of the Ancestors to that and focus all that energy on Sammy while chanting for healing."

Blaine pulled the toasted bread from the oven, adding another delicious scent to the kitchen. He fixed two plates of noodles, sauce, and bread, then carried them to the table. "Come here and eat. You're hungry."

Kurt sat in the chair next to Blaine, picked up his fork and began eating, his appreciative noises making Blaine smile bashfully. Oddly enough, Kurt felt calm about the magical undertaking he would be doing. He was more worried about Blaine. How had he come to care for and need him? The man who had kidnapped him and possessed the power to destroy him?

"How dangerous is the spell?"

Blaine's question broke into Kurt's thoughts. He chewed his bite of garlic bread and took a sip of his wine. "To Sammy? Moderately dangerous, though I don't think any more harm will come to her."

Blaine sighed and put his fork down. He put a finger under Kurt's chin to tilt him toward him and look into his eyes. "To _you._ During the magic transfer earlier, I'm pretty sure a demon tried to appear, but it seemed unable to materialize."

Shocked, Kurt dropped his bread, causing sauce to splatter all over the table and landing on his white shirt. Icy fear skittered up his spine and the hair on his arms rose. "You're sure?"

"Something was there. I could only see a shadow trying to materialize, but it looked like it had three heads. I think it was Asmodeus. But the door slammed closed and broke the connection whatever it was had with us."

Kurt shivered. "I heard you in my mind telling me to shut the door. Or maybe you were saying 'shut it out.' Either way, I did it. But would that actually keep a demon out?"

Blaine let go of Kurt's chin and grabbed a napkin to dab at the spaghetti sauce on his shirt. "My hawk screeched at it. Maybe that warned it away."

"I heard it," Kurt said, taking the napkin from him. Wherever Blaine touched, his powers rushed to those spots. It was an odd feeling. He dabbed uselessly at the stains, belatedly remembering he had magic. A quick pass of his hand caused the spots to disappear.

"Doing this spell is going to put you in more danger, isn't it," Blaine said quietly.

Kurt looked into his eyes. "I'll be careful. I'll use a consecrated salt circle; I think that will help protect me. Maybe. But Sammy is worth the risk."

Blaine looked away and picked up his fork. He toyed with the food on his plate for a few minutes then said, "I'll be there when you do the spell. I'll protect both you and Sammy."

"Okay," Kurt nodded. He needed Blaine there.

Blaine put his hand on the back of Kurt's neck, caressing it lightly. "I need you to know I won't stop protecting you. Even when Sammy's well again, I won't stop. You aren't alone anymore."

Kurt dropped his eyes to the tabletop. Blaine cared about him, truly cared. He made him feel like he finally belonged. The love and acceptance that he had craved for so long was finally within his reach. But he didn't know if it was real, or if it was a bond forced on Blaine by a curse he had accidentally completed.

"Kurt," Blaine whispered.

_God_. Kurt raised his head to look at Blaine, unable to resist his call. He looked into his face. The face of the man he'd fallen in love with. His heart beat just to hear the sound of his voice. His body ached just to feel his touch. Kurt knew he would sacrifice everything for Blaine, even if it meant giving up his love. "What?" he whispered in return.

But before Blaine could say anything, Deirdre's panicked voice shattered the moment. "Blaine! Kurt! It's Sammy! She's seizing!"

* * *

**TBC**

**ittlebitz . tumblr . com**


	10. Discovered!

**Title:** Hot Under My Skin

**Author:** Ittlebitz

**Pairing:** Kurt/Blaine

**Rating:** NC-17 over all, R this chapter

**Warnings for this** **chapter:** violence, descriptions of blood and injuries, death of a minor character

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. I definitely don't own Glee, otherwise 4x04 wouldn't exist. Blood Magic is my guide.

**Author's Note: **Once again I give my love and affection to my bestest bestie and long suffering beta, Sam, who has once again polished a lump of coal into a sparkly diamond. ;) Seriously. I unloaded this monster update (that had been written mainly in the wee hours of the morning on very little sleep) on her, and she knocked it back in shape and got it back to me in super-timely fashion.

She also helped me see reason in regards to posting. So rather than one massive chapter, instead there will be two chapters. Hopefully this will make up for my appalling tardiness since I ended up falling off my planned schedule. Thank you to all who are reading and reviewing!

* * *

Blaine jumped up and raced to Sammy's room. Deirdre was holding Sammy's shoulders as her small body jerked and convulsed. She was unresponsive and her eyes were rolled back in her head. The helplessness Blaine felt only fueled his rage at the demon witch responsible, and all he could think of was how he would rip her apart with his bare hands if he found her.

Kurt burst into the room. "Get out of my way!" he commanded, shouldering Blaine to one side. "Deirdre, I need you to move up towards her head, please." Kurt yanked the covers off of Sammy and put his hand in the center of her chest, closing his eyes and breathing deeply. A bright glow of energy danced around his hand for a moment, then quickly faded, causing him to jerk and nearly stumble.

Blaine moved behind Kurt to steady him. He could feel the swirling energy inside of Kurt focus and grow calm. Sammy's convulsions slowed and her body relaxed as they finally stopped.

"Kurt! Your hand!" Deirdre gasped.

Blaine looked down at Kurt's hand where it lay on Sammy's chest. The skin had turned a darkish gray color and the fingers looked swollen and gnarled. As he watched, the hand swelled more and pulsed as though there was something moving just under the surface.

"It's the curse. I'm pulling out as much as I can without using a spell," Kurt gritted out. His voice was tight and sounded almost breathless. Blaine felt his gut clench and his hold on Kurt tightened. How much pain was Kurt in, doing this? And how much pain was Sammy enduring?

Kurt took his hand away and staggered back a step, breathing hard. His forehead was dotted with sweat and there were tight lines around his mouth. "The convulsions are over, but she's getting sicker. I took-"

His words cut off as the house suddenly went dark.

"_Fuck_," Blaine snarled as he reached back for his knife. "Mom, are you armed?"

"I am," Deirdre answered, her voice calm and hard.

"It's just a power outage, isn't it?" asked Kurt, nerves apparent in his voice.

Blaine moved stealthily to the door, putting himself in front of his mom, sister and Kurt. "The backup generator would have kicked on by now. Rogues have found us. Kurt, grab Sammy."

"I've got her," Kurt responded quietly.

"Everyone stay behind me," Blaine ordered. Just then a thunderous boom sounded, followed by shattering glass as an explosion rocked the front of the house. "Move! Let's go!"

They rushed into the hallway to get to the stairs. A rogue armed with a gun rushed around the corner and tried to cut off their escape. Blaine reacted immediately, throwing his knife with deadly precision right into his heart. The man hit the ground with a heavy thud.

Sammy started crying. Blaine yanked his knife from the dead rogue's chest and grabbed his gun. He turned just in time to shoot a second rogue coming around the corner. Sammy screamed and began sobbing in earnest. "Tigger! I want Tigger!"

"Shhhhh, baby girl," Kurt urged her quietly.

Blaine felt a surge of Kurt's powers as he charmed Sammy to try to calm her and keep her quiet. "Hurry up! Get downstairs!" he hissed as he quickly rushed into the kitchen to provide them with cover as they ran into his room to escape down the stairs. His hunter senses were on high alert. His vision was sharp, even in the dark, and his hearing was tuned to hear even the smallest noise. He guessed there were four rogues in the house. The kitchen was clear, but he looked into the living room in time to see two more sneaking stealthily through the gaping hole that had once been his front door. Moving silently, he went to kill the fucking assholes that threatened his family.

Terror coursed through Kurt and he was positive his heart was about to beat out of his chest. Sammy clung tightly to his neck and had her legs wrapped tightly around his waist. He kept one arm wrapped securely around her as he hurried down the stairs.

Gunfire erupted upstairs, causing Kurt to flinch. Sammy's small frame heaved with silent sobs and she clung to him tighter.

"Hurry, Kurt! The end of the hall!" Deirdre whispered behind him.

He rushed to the end where the mirror Blaine had told him about hung. He placed his hand on it, and the wall in front of him glided open silently.

Deirdre slipped past him. "Follow me, Kurt. No light. There's six steps up."

They stepped into the garage. It was cold and dark and smelled like oil and gasoline, similar to his dad's shop. Kurt could see faint lines of light coming from one wall and knew that was where the garage doors were. He stepped carefully, following Deirdre's dark shape in the faint light. Suddenly, his knee slammed into something hard and pain shot through him. He bit his lip hard to keep from crying out, tasting blood.

Sammy whimpered softly. Kurt shifted her to his other arm and reached out to feel what he had run into. It was an SUV of some sort. He had hit the front driver's side fender. Sliding carefully around it, he crossed to the other side where Deirdre waited. She quietly opened the door to the back seat and moved aside to let Kurt set Sammy carefully inside. As soon as he put her on the seat, she began to squirm and protest.

"Shhhhh, baby, you've got to keep quiet," Kurt whispered urgently as he crawled in next to her. He wrapped his arms around her and could feel her body trembling and her rapid heartbeat.

Deirdre closed the door as quietly as she could and quickly got into the driver's seat. She locked the doors and turned to glance swiftly at Kurt. "You and Sammy keep down."

Kurt laid Sammy across the seat with her head in his lap. He focused on sending her calming energy. It wasn't right that any child should go through this and be this terrified.

Deirdre started the vehicle and hit a button at the same time to open the garage door. As soon as it rolled up enough to let them through, she hit the gas. They sped out of the garage and turned left to go around the front of the house. Three rogues brandishing guns rushed at them, each taking aim and firing at the SUV. One bullet shattered the windshield at an angle and went through the back window. Kurt fell over Sammy to protect her from flying broken glass. Another shot was fired and the SUV lurched as a tire blew out and Deirdre lost control. The vehicle slammed into a tree with a crunch of metal.

The three rogues approached the disabled car. They held their guns at the ready as they stalked closer. Kurt felt panic clawing at him. Everything was happening too fast and he didn't want to die. But he was even more frightened that something would happen to Sammy and Deirdre. He had to get them out of there and to safety. "Deirdre, you take Sammy and get to Blaine's truck. Hurry! I'll hold them off!"

"But Kurt-" she protested.

Kurt cut her off. "Go! _Now!_ Get out of here!"

He took a deep breath. He would do this. He'd distract them so Deirdre and Sammy could get to safety. And Blaine would save him...

Or he would die.

But he couldn't let Sammy and Deirdre be killed. Kurt knew he was the one the rogues wanted, and he would be damned if they got him without a fight.

Taking a deep breath to try to fight back his panic, Kurt focused his energy. He wrapped his hand around his silver necklace and breathed, "Ancestors, protect us." Then he turned the handle and jumped out of the SUV to run toward the house. He looked over his shoulder and saw the rogues had halted momentarily, looking between him and Deirdre and Sammy as they ran to Blaine's truck. He needed their attention on him.

_His blood!_ Kurt looked around frantically and saw a jagged piece of wood from the front door on the ground. He glanced up to see a rogue grabbing Deirdre. She was struggling to pull her gun and still hold on to Sammy, who was wrapped tightly around her with her face buried in her mother's neck. Kurt knew he had to act fast. Through adrenaline and sheer force of will, he grabbed the wood and violently jammed it into the inside of his arm. He felt dizzy as he dragged it upwards, opening a huge gash, but he made himself ignore the searing pain as blood welled up and spilled hot from his arm. He waved it over his head and yelled, "Hey, assholes! Fresh witch blood! Over here! Come and get it!"

Distracted by the sudden scent of power-rich witch blood, the rogue holding Deirdre turned his head. She yanked her gun free and shot him point blank in the head. Sammy screamed, her voice high pitched with sheer terror.

The other two rogues turned toward Kurt, inhaling deeply. Their entire attention was focused on him and their eyes gleamed with bloodlust. Suddenly, they both disappeared.

Shit, _shit, SHIT_. Kurt knew they were running toward him, but he couldn't see them. He turned and ran for the house. He had to get to safety, to Blaine. Behind him, he heard the truck roar to life and the squeal of rubber as Deirdre floored the gas to get away. He raced to the steps and reached a hand out to grasp the railing. _Almost there_.

The coppery scent of blood rushed over him, causing him to gag and the hair on his arms and the back of his neck to stand up. A hand grabbed his outstretched arm and jerked him to a halt. Both rogues reappeared at the same time. The rogue that had grabbed him reached quickly for his other arm, jerking them both behind him and holding him immobile.

"Oh, no, you don't, witch," the hunter growled in Kurt's ear. "You aren't going anywhere. Cut him!" he snarled to his fellow hunter.

The second rogue unsheathed his knife, the blade flashing in the moonlight. He moved so fast, it took Kurt's brain a second to register the cuts. A razor sharp slash on his left bicep, followed in rapid succession by one to his right thigh. The shock of pain roiled through him, squeezing all the air from his lungs. Tears burned his eyes and he struggled in the iron hold, trying to fight and kick out. Another flash, and the knife slashed through his shirt to slice his side. Hot blood flowed freely and pain sizzled along his nerves, cutting off his concentration. Kurt felt his stomach heave at the thick smell of blood and his chakras slammed shut. He had lost the connection with his powers.

The rogue holding him released his arms, and Kurt staggered briefly before he was caught up and tossed roughly over the man's shoulder. The rogue broke into a run, heading toward the main road.

_Blaine!_ Kurt's mind screamed.

The furious screech of a hawk answered him.

* * *

Blaine pulled his knife from the chest of another rogue. He had taken a gunshot to one thigh, and while though it slowed him down, it didn't stop him. Instead, it had added fuel to the fire and pissed him off even further. The fucker that had shot him was lying dead in the door way, and he had fought and killed two more besides that.

Kurt's scream ripped through his chest, causing him to whip around and race for the door leading to the side of the house. Blaine rushed out onto the balcony in time to see two rogues running away with Kurt over one's shoulder. Even though his leg was bleeding heavily, Blaine didn't even hesitate. He grabbed the rail and jumped over.

The loud screech of his hawk filled his ears, and to Blaine's stunned confusion, wings burst free from his back. They spread and caught the wind, jerking him out of a jump that would have landed him on his feet. He was so shocked he nearly slammed head first into the ground, but he felt the muscles in his back and chest react instinctively. Before he knew what was going on, the wings were flapping powerfully and keeping him away from the ground.

Blaine couldn't believe it. He had wings, actual wings, and he was _flying!_

He kept close enough to the ground to use the copper scent of the rogues to track them. To one side, he saw two mortal guys from his security crew laying dead on the ground, their throats cut. Further ahead, he could see his truck speeding away. He was relieved to recognize his mother behind the wheel. Now he could deal with the motherfuckers who had his witch. He spotted them running down the road at a superhuman speed. Blaine moved faster, his fury growing as he recognized the spicy scent of Kurt's blood mixed with the stench of rogue.

_Mine!_ The blood staining Kurt's shirt caused his mind to sharpen with rage as he noted that his witch shimmer was dulling. Blaine felt his wings shift instinctively, sending him into a dive.

Kurt was thrashing in the rogue's iron grasp, struggling to free himself. When he saw Blaine his blue eyes widened in shock. Feeling the change in his captive, the hunter turned and looked up. He had no time to react as Blaine shifted in the wind and slammed both booted feet into his face. The rogue's head whipped back with a sickening crack as his neck snapped. As he landed, Blaine caught Kurt to keep him from falling to the ground with the dead man.

The other rogue roared as he ran at them. Blaine set Kurt on his feet and moved protectively in front of him. His wings folded into his back and disappeared into his tattoo as he stood his ground against the charging rogue. The man attacked, aiming for Blaine's heart with his knife. Blaine swung around with a hard kick, injuring the rogue's hand and sending the knife flying. The rogue yelped and cradled his hand against his body, but the sight of a bloody Kurt quickly distracted him. His face twisted with the fierce craving for witch blood and, with a loud bellow, he rushed straight for Kurt.

Blaine whipped around and tackled him from behind, taking him to the ground before he could reach Kurt. He jammed one knee into the rogue's back and roughly grabbed him by his head, giving it a vicious twist and snapping his neck. Blaine got to his feet, breathing hard but slightly more relaxed now that the rogues were dead and no longer a threat. He strode to Kurt and looked him over anxiously, noting that his shimmer had turned a faint gray color and blood still flowed from several wounds.

Kurt was assessing Blaine at the same time. His eyes widened and he gasped, "Oh my God, Blaine! Your thigh! Were you shot?"

"Yes," Blaine answered as he scooped Kurt up into his arms. "Put your arms around my neck."

"But your leg hurts!" Kurt argued.

_Shit_. Kurt could feel it. "I need you to close it off, Kurt. Don't think about it right now. That was Mom and Sammy in my truck, right?"

Now that his wings had disappeared, Blaine wasn't quite sure yet where they actually came from, much less just how the whole flying bit actually worked in the first place. So he carried Kurt toward the cars left parked on the side of the road by the rogues.

Kurt nodded. "They got away, but I don't know where they were going. Put me down, Blaine, I can walk."

Blaine ignored him, continuing to carry him until he reached the cars. He set Kurt on his feet and prowled around the cars until he found a truck with an unlocked door. He reached over to unlock the other door, and then went around to help Kurt into the passenger seat, paying no attention to Kurt's protests.

Kurt looked up at Blaine questioningly.

"You had wings. Where did they go?" he asked suddenly.

Blaine yanked off his shirt. He saw large rips in the back where the wings had torn through when they burst open. "I don't know. How many times were you cut?" he asked as he tore the ruined shirt into strips. He quickly tied one around Kurt's left bicep, knowing that meant the next cut would be his right thigh. Which would mean there would be another somewhere on the trunk of the body; most likely his side, judging by the amount of blood on Kurt's shirt. Rogue hunters would cut in that way to cause confusion and disconnect the witch off from their powers.

"There's three from the rogues, and one I did myself," Kurt answered, hissing as Blaine grabbed the edges of the gaping slash in his jeans to tear it further apart and examine the injury there.

Blaine stopped still for a moment as Kurt's words sunk in. He raised his head to stare at Kurt's pale face. "You cut yourself?"

Kurt shrugged a shoulder gingerly and winced. "I had to. They were going after your mom and Sammy. I had to distract them somehow. After all, it was me they were after."

Blaine sucked in a harsh breath. Kurt had literally turned himself into witch bait, using the scent of his blood to distract the rogues from Blaine's family. He wrapped a strip of the torn cloth around Kurt's leg and then lifted his shirt. The gash on his torso was deeper, a sure sign that the bloodlust frenzy had started to set in for the rogue who been doing the cutting. It was a wonder they hadn't just fallen on Kurt right then and killed him. The thought made Blaine feel sick. If he hadn't already killed the rogues responsible, he would do it now, only slower and more painful.

"You have a gunshot wound to your thigh, Blaine! That's worse than these cuts!" Kurt argued.

Blaine could feel Kurt's powers weakly reaching out for him. Even though his witch was injured and having trouble connecting to his powers, he was still trying to take away the pain from Blaine's thigh. "Kurt. You need to stop. I promise you, I don't feel pain the same way you do. Hunters have an exceptionally high threshold for pain. It irritates me more than it hurts me. I need you to stop wasting your powers on me and focus on healing yourself."

"Are you telling me the truth, Blaine?" Kurt asked him softly.

"I swear it. We were created to be able to handle pain." Blaine didn't smell any more rogues, so he leaned in quickly to brush his lips against Kurt's. "We need to leave. It's still dangerous to be out in the open."

Blaine was being truthful about being able to handle physical pain, but what he _couldn't_ handle was seeing Kurt in pain. He knew that the specially designed cut pattern the rogues used disconnected a witch from their powers, and Kurt was in enough pain that he couldn't get his chakras to stay open for him. His powers would feebly attempt to rise, then falter and slip away. Blaine wrapped a long strip of cloth around Kurt's torso and tied it off, then turned his attention to the jagged wound on his arm that obviously hadn't been caused by a rogue's blade.

"Should I even ask how you did this?" Blaine asked as he gently tended to it. He was slightly relieved that Kurt's shimmer was a little brighter, but noted it was still a far cry from its normal brilliance and was dotted with red blotches caused by his pain.

"A broken piece of wood from the house." Kurt closed his eyes and fought off a wave of nausea. He felt Blaine's strong hands stroking his upper arms with a comforting feather light touch.

"So brave," murmured Blaine quietly. "I want you to look at me, Kurt. Show me those gorgeous blue eyes." He smiled encouragingly when Kurt complied. "Now, breathe. In and out, just like this," he demonstrated.

Their breathing fell into a synced pattern and Blaine felt Kurt's heart rate calm. "_Good_, so good for me. Now, sweet witch, open your chakras and let your powers have you. Let them heal you."

When Kurt's witch shimmer warmed to a dull silver rather than a cold gray, Blaine gave his shoulders a squeeze. "That's better. I want you to rest now. I'll get us out of here." He closed the door and quickly crossed to the driver's side. He climbed into the seat and froze on an intake of breath when he felt Kurt's fingers softly tracing his tattoo.

"Your hawk looks just the same as it always did. And your back looks just the same," Kurt said quietly as he stroked the outline of the wings.

Blaine felt his hawk ruffle and preen itself under Kurt's touch. When he looked at Kurt, he was surprised to see his witch shimmer getter stronger and brighter.

"Touching my hawk makes you feel better?" he asked, heart pounding.

Kurt jerked slightly as though he hadn't realized what he was doing. A pink blush crossed his cheeks and turned his faint shimmer rosy. "I...well, that is...yeah. Yeah, it does."

Blaine couldn't let himself be distracted by the sense of primal satisfaction Kurt's whispered words caused. He gave himself a mental shake and reached for the ignition, cursing when there were no keys there.

"_Fuck_. The keys aren't here. I'm going to have to go search the bodies and see if I can find then. I'll be right back." Blaine reached for the door to get out, but stopped when Kurt clutched at his arm with both hands.

"No! Let me do it!" Kurt's voice was panicked and his blue eyes were dilated with fear. "I don't need keys. Even if I wasn't a witch I could start a vehicle without them."

Blaine felt his tattoo stirring in response to Kurt's fear. He took one of Kurt's hands in his own and held it close to his chest. "Okay. It's okay, I won't leave you." He watched as Kurt closed his eyes and breathed deep, focusing his energy. Blaine felt a hum of energy pass through him and the truck engine roared to life. He waited for Kurt to open his eyes, still holding his hand and rubbing his thumb across the knuckles.

"You saved my mother and sister's lives," Blaine whispered in awe when Kurt finally looked at him.

Kurt tried to smile even though his lips were trembling. "I had to. I knew you would come for me. You need me to undo the curse on Sammy," he said, looking down at their clasped hands.

Blaine took Kurt's chin in his free hand and tilted it up so that Kurt looked him in the eyes. They held the gaze for a mere breadth of a moment, then Blaine leaned in to nuzzle his nose against Kurt's.

"I need _you_, Kurt. Period."

* * *

Kurt glanced around the huge warehouse next to Scandals, wide eyes taking in everything. Looking forward, he recognized Mike standing at a desk in front of a huge display of screens, appearing even larger in real life. He was flanked by three equally large men, all who were watching as he and Blaine drew closer to them.

Blaine had one arm around Kurt's waist and his knife in the other hand. "Where's Mom and Sammy?" he demanded, tightening his grip on Kurt.

Mike walked slowly around the desk, making sure to keep his hands in clear view. "Relax, Blaine, take it easy. They're upstairs in your condo. Deirdre said you'd been attacked by rogues and that they'd taken Kurt. But I see you got him back." His dark eyes shifted to Kurt, who tensed. "I'm not going to hurt you, Kurt. I swear it."

"I won't, either," said the blue eyed man with the shaggy blonde hair. "Name's Sam."

"No bloodlust here. I can smell the witch blood, but it's more an annoying buzz than pain," remarked the hunter with the Mohawk hairstyle. "Call me Puck."

"So this is the witch. First male we've come across in I don't know how long." The last man of the group wasn't as tall as the others but seemed more deadly somehow. The red tips of his spiked black hair caught the light as he moved closer, and Kurt felt himself tense. He had no idea what to expect from these hunters.

"_Wes_," Blaine growled low in warning. His body jerked and a whooshing noise filled the room.

Kurt felt feathers explode past him, then curl protectively around his shoulder, holding him close. Blaine had sprouted wings. Again.

Wes stopped short, his nearly black eyes taking in the entire span of the wings. The other three men stared at Blaine as well, faces impassive but shock evident in their eyes.

"Well, _that's_ new," Puck broke the silence, raising one eyebrow. "Is there something you'd like to share with the class, Blaine?"

Blaine didn't waver or back down. He kept Kurt held tightly to his side and that wing curled in a little more, offering double protection. "Not even gonna lie, it's been a bitch of a night. None of you are feeling the bloodlust?"

"No more than usual," Mike said with a shrug. "It's not the spike and pain that normally hits when there's a witch around, especially a witch with drying blood on their clothes."

Wes looked Blaine in the eye. "I wasn't threatening your witch. I just wanted to look at him, I swear it."

"So, let's hear it, Blaine. When did you get wings?" Sam asked as he leaned against the desk.

"When rogues tried to take Kurt, I jumped off a balcony and found out I could fly," Blaine said, his voice flat.

Puck moved slowly around Blaine's side, then back to the front. "Holy shit, Blaine. Real fucking wings! What's that all about?" He flashed a wide grin at Kurt.

Kurt was surprised to feel his own lips raising in a small smile in response. There was something about this man with his shaved hairstyle, wearing black leather and sporting a never-met-a-rule-he-couldn't-break attitude that made Kurt feel a bit more relaxed.

When Blaine felt Kurt relax against him, his own tension eased as well. He shifted as he slid his knife into its holster at his back. His gaze was a bit rueful as he responded to Puck. "Well, they didn't come with an owner's manual. No Wings for Dummies or anything."

"I've never heard of a witch hunter getting actual wings," Mike said.

Blaine shrugged, causing the wings to ripple. "Things change. Everything has changed since the curse."

"They're hawk wings. They match your tattoo exactly," Wes pointed out. "But I don't see the thumb ring of immortality. Have you had an appearance from The Slayer?"

Blaine shook his head. "No."

Kurt could feel the mixtures of emotion that were swirling around the room. He could feel Blaine's remaining anger over the rogue attack, along with a mixture of confusion and a sense of hope for what the wings might represent. He could feel the deep affection among the witch hunters there. They were obviously close, like brothers. They were a family to Blaine, along with Deirdre and Sammy.

But Kurt was worried. "Can you control the wings? Put them away?"

Blaine glanced at him, hazel eyes full of wonder and curiosity. "I didn't do anything to make them come out. They just did."

"Because you thought I was a threat to Kurt," Wes stated.

Kurt felt an icy tingle of fear. He wasn't controlling Blaine's wings, he _couldn't_ be. He hadn't called them out. Or had he? "Can you try? Please?"

Blaine was surprised at the strain in Kurt's voice, but supposed it wasn't exactly unexpected, given what he had been through. "Sure. I need you to move, though. I don't want to hit you or anything."

Kurt bit his lower lip. He didn't want to move out of the embrace of his hawk. The feel of soft feathers against his skin made him feel more safe and secure. But he had to know that he hadn't done this to Blaine. That he hadn't turned him into a familiar. He forced himself to step away from Blaine and moved over to the side, alone.

Blaine turned and took a few steps further away, moving closer to the pool table.

Wes gave a low whistle. "Fuck me sideways. Will you look at that."

Kurt stared open mouthed, unable to look away. The wings jutted out where Blaine's shoulder blades were, huge and magnificent. The muscles of his neck, shoulders and back rippled with strength. There was no sign of the tattoo they all knew.

"Can you move them?" Sam questioned curiously.

Blaine put his hands on his hips and flexed. The wings did a slow sweep, fanning the room as they flapped powerfully. Then they lifted high and folded, melting into his skin and becoming the hawk tattoo again.

Kurt swallowed heavily, feeling nearly dizzy with relief. He wasn't controlling Blaine's wings, he was sure of it. The room was filled with a heavy silence. Everything was happening so quickly. With Blaine's help, Kurt had been able to heal his injuries most of the way. And he had gotten the bullet out of Blaine's leg. But he felt sore and drained after the events of the night.

"You guys don't all live here, do you?" he asked the Warblers curiously, blushing when they all laughed at the question.

"Nope," Puck answered with a smirk. "We all have homes, but this is where we hang if we aren't busy. I had actually been out with a hot chick when I got the call to get my ass to the warehouse."

Kurt could see the wings tattooed on his biceps that were visible just below the tight fit of his black t-shirt. "Oh," he said lamely, unsure what to say.

"We thought we were going to have to go after you, Kurt," explained Sam. "But turns out Blaine got the job done."

Kurt blinked, feeling stunned as he looked at each of the men standing there watching him with serious faces. "You would have done that? You'd have rescued me?"

"You bet your ass," stated Puck emphatically. "First of all, Sammy needs you. Secondly, I fucking _hate_ rogues. And no rogue is gonna take a witch that's under our protection, got me? It ain't gonna happen."

Kurt felt nearly overwhelmed. He had been so scared when the rogues had gotten him, and he had hoped against hope that Blaine would save him. It had never occurred to him that these men, all hunters struggling with the blood curse, would put themselves at risk to try to save him.

"Thank you," he whispered. Other than his dad, the only other person Kurt had ever been able to depend on was Finn.

_Finn!_

"Oh God," Kurt gasped, whirling to look at Blaine, who had snapped to attention at Kurt's panicked voice. "Blaine! What about Finn? What if he and Quinn go back to the house tonight?"

Blaine patted his pockets, looking for his cell phone and growling in frustration when he didn't find it. "I need a phone."

Wes was quickest, pulling his phone out of his pocket and tossing it to Blaine, who handed it to Kurt. "Here. Call him."

Kurt dialed Finn's number as quickly as he could with shaky hands, cursing under his breath. He tapped his foot nervously as the call connected and breathed a sigh of relief when Finn answered on the second ring.

"Hudson."

"Finn, it's me. Don't go back to Blaine's house, okay? We were attacked-"

"Slow down, Kurt," Finn interrupted, his voice sounding anxious. "Are you alright?"

"I'm okay, Finn. I had some cuts, but I'm alive and so is Blaine. Can you stay with Tina?" Kurt asked, then nearly dropped the phone as another fear exploded in his mind. "Oh, shit! _Tina!_ What if they go after her?"

Blaine quickly crossed to Kurt's side and put his arm around him before taking the phone. "Finn, it's Blaine. Kurt's okay. He's got some injuries, but he's mostly scared and shaken up. He has a point, though. I don't think I can send a hunter to watch over Tina. And then there's the matter of Quinn and keeping her safe, too."

Blaine listened as Finn spoke on the other end, his face hardening. "It's a very strong possibility. This was a planned out, well staged attack. Mireles could definitely have been behind it." He listened again for a moment then handed the phone back to Kurt.

"Finn, be careful," Kurt implored.

"I will be," Finn promised him. "Are you okay there? I can come and get you if I need to."

"No, no, it's okay. I'm good here," Kurt assured. "I love you, okay?"

"Right back atcha, Kurt," Finn said. "Seriously, though, bro, can't you try to stay out of trouble for just a little while?"

Kurt nearly laughed. "I'm starting to doubt it."

"Me, too. Later, dude," Finn said as he ended the call.

Kurt walked over to the desk where Blaine and the other Warblers were gathered, studying what looked like blueprints. He handed Wes his phone back with a small smile of gratitude, then listened to the ongoing conversation.

"These are the blueprints to your dad's place," Mike was saying to Blaine. "I put them up on the big computer screen when we were planning to rescue Kurt and possibly you. It was the first and most likely place we could think of to start looking. We were just starting to look them over when you walked in."

They all looked at the biggest screen in the center of the wall of monitors. The blueprints showed a large house with an even bigger building behind it.

"Here's the original blueprints," said Mike as he put another set on a smaller screen. "See the difference?"

Blaine nodded. "He's expanded the building behind the house."

"Exactly," Mike said. "We know the house used to be a veterinarian's office. According to the architect notes on the new prints, two barracks have been added at the end. There's also a control room wired for high tech equipment, a conference room, and some smaller rooms. But the thing that stood out most..."

Kurt felt Blaine tense beside him. "What?" Blaine asked.

"He kept the kennel and operating rooms and updated them," Mike answered grimly.

Kurt wasn't sure what that meant, but an icy shiver danced down his spine.

Blaine stopped breathing for a moment, then let out a low, vicious growl. "He's building a compound to turn witch hunters rogue. The kennels are to hold witches until they have a hunter they want to turn, and the operating room is where they'll slaughter them. He's creating an army of rogues for Alistair Young," he spat out, body vibrating in rage.

Puck stared thoughtfully at the displayed building plans. "Antonio Mireles would want a piece of that action."

Kurt felt his chakras suddenly snap open without warning. Power surged through the four lower chakras and slammed into the power rushing down through his fifth. The voices in his head rose to a jumbled scream. Energy swirled around his spine and there was a pounding at a spot in the middle of his forehead.

Wes glanced up and around. "Do you feel that? Your witch is doing something, Blaine."

"Holy _shit_. There's power surging through the entire room," Puck added, sounding impressed.

Kurt could hear them talking, but their words were jumbled and nearly drowned out by the roar in his head. He closed his eyes against the sensations of pain and dizziness.

"Kurt! Look at me!" Blaine grabbed him, trying to get him to open his eyes.

Kurt tried, but he couldn't. His eyes were closed tight as power whirled down his spine into a vortex at the base. He felt pressure inside him intensifying and gathering at the center of his forehead. Suddenly there was a huge wave of energy and his sixth chakra blew open.

Elizabeth appeared, lying on the ground with blood running from multiple cuts on her arms and legs. Her pale face was lined with pain and her thick hair was caked with dirt and blood. The moon appeared from behind a cloud and illuminated crumbling headstones rising from uneven grass in the unkempt graveyard where she was.

Alistair Young stood over her with a cruel sneer on his face. His silver knife gleamed in the moonlight, the sharp blade streaked red with blood. "You are even worse than the demon witches, Elizabeth. They made me want sex. Your trick was different. You made me want something that doesn't exist."

Elizabeth glared right back at him, even through her obvious pain. "It would be real, had you not gone rogue and lost your soul. I would have loved you and our child."

Young's smooth features twisted, looking haunted before returning to their baleful look. "All you witches are nothing but liars."

"Yet you can't kill me," Elizabeth said, her voice softening.

Young's gaze hardened again. "Where's the baby, Elizabeth?" he snarled.

"I told you already, our son is dead. He was stillborn," Elizabeth panted.

Young crouched down next to her, running a hand over her still swollen abdomen. "Lying bitch," he hissed as his knife flashed, slashing across the tender skin.

"He's dead!" Elizabeth screamed, her voice cracking with pain.

Young put his hand in the warm blood, closing his eyes and shivering with pleasure as he absorbed the power in her blood. "_This_ is what's real. Power. And I finally have enough witch blood to summon the demon Asmodeus."

"No," whispered Elizabeth in horror.

Keeping his hand in Elizabeth's blood, Young began to chant. "I summon thee from the Underworld, O Asmodeus, demon of lechery, anger, jealousy and revenge! By the blood of a witch, I command thee, appear!"

The earth rumbled and several headstones fell over as a huge crack appeared in the ground. Black smoke rose up and swirled to form a dark shape with three heads. The heavy smell of sulfur and brimstone combined with burned flesh filled the air.

Young rose to one knee to kneel in reverence. "Asmodeus. You do me great honor by appearing."

The demon spoke; its voice a low, slithering hiss. "The child lives. Kill this witch and find the boy."

Young's gaze shifted from the demon back to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth licked her cracked lips. "Alistair, feel inside yourself. You can still do the right thing. Let me go, let me and your son live. The best part of you will live on in your child."

"Choose," crackled the demon's voice, coming from all three heads at once. A wind rose through the graveyard, causing trees to sway and grass and dirt to fly. "Kill the witch, and the power of the Dagger of Immortal Death is yours. With it, you can kill anything, including an immortal." It raised a hand holding a large black knife the size of a mortal man's forearm.

"Ancestors protect us," Elizabeth chanted in a soft whisper.

One demon head looked balefully down at her while the other two remained focused on Young. "Her Ancestors don't hear her, do they, Alistair?"

Young stared at the large knife in the demon's grasp, his eyes shining with an unholy light. "No. You destroyed the Ancestors and The Slayer. _That's_ power, _that's_ what's real."

"Take the Dagger of Immortal Death, Alistair. Kill the witch."

Young's eyes were dilated, filled with greed and lust for power. "At what price?"

"Three things. First, you must raise an army and lead them. Kill the witches. Second, find the whelp you sired of this whore and kill him. Whether he be witch or hunter matters not. And third, kill any hunter who takes the wings. They could resurrect that half-breed, The Slayer, and challenge our power."

Young looked down at Elizabeth, then back at the dagger that shone with obsidian light in the moon.

"Alistair," whispered Elizabeth.

Young made his choice. With inhuman speed, he grabbed the black dagger and plunged it into Elizabeth's chest with a vicious twist.

Kurt could hear screams.

"I've got you, I'm here. I'm right here. Come back to me!"

Blaine's frantic voice broke through and Kurt became aware of his strong arms surrounding him and holding him to his chest. His eyes flew open as he heaved and struggled for breath. The harsh rawness of his throat told him that he had been screaming. His head throbbed and his chest ached as though he himself had been stabbed with Young's dagger. He realized that he was shaking violently in Blaine's arms.

"Alistair Young summoned Asmodeus with my mother's blood when he killed her. He has the Dagger of Immortal Death."

* * *

Blaine returned to the warehouse after getting Kurt settled in his condo and set up on the computer to talk to Tina. The Warblers gathered grimly around him.

"The attack on my safe house tonight wasn't of my dad's doing," Blaine said. "It was obviously planned out and carefully set up. They cut both the main power and the backup generators. There was definitely a well concocted plan."

"Mireles," Puck sneered.

"Where the hell is Alistair Young?" asked Sam. "What was it with your dad's house that triggered Kurt's vision? Is Young connected to the house?"

"Kurt's vision was some sort of warning that Young has the Dagger of Immortal Death," Wes stated.

"Like that matters? We aren't immortal, a regular knife can kill us," Puck pointed out.

"But Blaine has wings. Immortality could very well be next," answered Wes.

They all turned to look at Blaine. He rubbed a hand on the back of his neck. "I just don't fucking know. But I do know that Young is even more dangerous with the Death Dagger. He can kill anyone with it. And he's the one calling the shots. Maybe my dad and Mireles partnered up at Young's command."

"Maybe so," mused Mike. "But I am curious as to why you haven't heard from Damian since that stunt crashing the Escalade full of cut up witches into the club."

Blaine frowned, trying to make sense of everything. "You think he's dead, then?"

"I think it's a real possibility that there's been a hostile takeover by Antonio Mireles. In the last two days, the path I used to hack into the Rogue Junto computers has been cut off and new security is in place," Mike said.

Blaine grabbed the phone lying on the countertop and dialed his dad's number. It went straight to voicemail. Damian's phone was off.

"I think you should try to get more from your witch now that he's having visions and shit," Wes stated. "Show him the blueprints again."

Blaine frowned and shook his head. "Kurt needs to save his strength right now for healing Sammy."

"Right on," Wes was quick to agree. "Sammy was scared shitless when she got here with your mom. She looked like hell, too. Pale, shaking, and that damned death mark all red now. The waxing gibbous moon is only three days away. When is Kurt going to do the spell?"

"He's going to try tomorrow at moonrise. On a shoreline; he says he needs to be where the elements meet for better access to the ley lines." Blaine knew that Kurt was exhausted and still in pain from the rogue attack and his earlier vision. His hawk wings fretted restlessly in his tattoo, unhappy at being this far away from Kurt right now. The feeling created an itching sensation under his skin that only Kurt's touch could soothe.

"So what happens if the spell works and Sammy's healed?" Puck asked, sitting in his chair with his legs stretched out in front of him and casually peeling an orange with his knife. "You gonna keep the witch around?"

Blaine fixed his hard gaze on Puck. "I'm not throwing him to the rogues. And let's not forget there's gonna be a pissed off demon witch looking for him."

Puck popped a section of orange in his mouth and chewed steadily, eyes not leaving Blaine's. "Just saying those new wings of yours sprang out when you thought Kurt was in danger. And now you talk as though you can't walk away from him. It's almost as though you were bound to him in the way of a familiar."

Blaine's eyes narrowed and he felt his hawk rustle angrily. "I am protecting him in the way of a Warbler Hunter."

"I'm just pointing out that we are on unfamiliar grounds here and we need to have our priorities clear. I don't care how hot this witch is; I won't let him use Sammy for his own agenda. For example, regaining power lost by the curse," Puck stated as he ate another slice of orange.

Blaine bit back an angry retort. Kurt wasn't using him like that, but he understood that the men who were protecting his mother and sister, and now Kurt, had the right to make sure his head was where it needed to be. "My priority is and always has been Sammy."

"I thought so," Puck nodded as he tossed the orange peels into the trash.

* * *

**TBC**

**ittlebitz . tumblr . com**


	11. Don't Speak

**Title:** Hot Under My Skin

**Author:** Ittlebitz

**Pairing:** Kurt/Blaine

**Rating:** NC-17 over all, we'll call this chapter NC-17 to be safe

**Warnings for this** **chapter:** brief sexual content (fingering, riding), witchcraft and spell magic, violence, descriptions of blood and injuries, death of a minor character

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. I definitely don't own Glee, otherwise 4x04 wouldn't exist. Blood Magic is my guide.

**Author's Note:** So, technically this is actually the second part of the previous chapter. But whatevs! :D So same notes apply, including all love for my beta as well as all you wonderful readers and reviewers. Hope you enjoy!

* * *

Kurt sat with his eyes closed on the floor in the middle of Blaine's sleek modern office in his condo, ignoring the large mahogany desk with its plush leather office chair. Tina's image was projected on the large flat screen hanging on one wall and she watched as Kurt tried to meditate and open his sixth chakra again.

"You have to stop resisting, Kurt," Tina encouraged. "You can't be afraid of what you might see. And don't be afraid of casting the spell tomorrow. You have to block everything out."

Kurt opened his eyes and looked at the image of his friend on the screen. "I'm _trying_," he said, trying hard not to snap at her. "I _hear_ the voices, I just can't _reach_ them. And hell, _yes_, I'm afraid. I saw my father summon a demon and murder my mother to take possession of a demonic knife. I can't control this. What if I open my third eye again to see something else horrible?"

Tina's face softened. "You're doing so great, Kurt. The Circle witches all say you have to get past your fear."

Kurt snorted in derision. "That's real easy for them to say. Besides, _they're_ afraid of _me!_ Tell them to get past their own fears!"

"Oh, Kurt," Tina sighed. "I know it doesn't seem fair, but they really do have to be careful. And they do want to help you heal Sammy. The Circles plan to meet at moonrise tomorrow and send you as much of their energy as possible to help you with the spell."

Kurt's smile was tight and didn't reach his eyes. "Thanks. Did they say anything about soul mirrors?"

Tina shook her head. "They don't know the answer, Kurt. And since they don't understand the bond you have with your hunter, they have to be cautious. But they did say if you could open your sixth chakra and talk to the Ancestors directly, they'll be happy to bring you into the Circle."

"Oh, sure, if the Ancestors accept me, _then_ they'll accept me. No other witch is held to that standard, Tina!" Kurt snapped in frustration, drawing his knees up beneath his chin. "If I can do what no other witch can, I'll finally be worthy of the almighty Circle. And what if I've bound Blaine to me? Is _that_ going to be okay with them? Or will that be another reason to refuse me?"

Tina looked helpless. "Kurt, they swear you can't bind him as a familiar."

"Oh, yeah? He's got wings now, Tina. _Wings_. Do any of the Circle witches remember any other witch hunters having wings?"

Kurt's head still pounded and he felt on the verge of tears. After his vision, Blaine had helped him up the stairs to his huge bathroom and settled him into the giant spa tub with him. Blaine had held his hand to each of Kurt's still healing injuries, drawing his powers to his touch to speed up the healing. He had held him in his arms and made him feel safe and cared for.

And yet it was probably all a lie. _Soul mirrors._ Blaine hadn't agreed to anything, he had just had sex with him. How was that any sort of agreement?

"Kurt."

Not Tina this time, but Blaine. He had entered the room with his eerily quiet ability and now stood close behind him. Kurt raised his head slowly, feeling unbearably weary all of a sudden.

Blaine crouched down next to him. "You're tired."

Kurt waved him off. "I need to talk to the Ancestors."

"For the spell?" Blaine asked.

"For the spell," Kurt affirmed. "I can't do it without them."

It was the truth. If he could reach the Ancestors, they would help him with the spell for Sammy. But he needed to know for sure that he hadn't bound Blaine unwillingly to him.

Blaine took both of Kurt's hands and helped him to his feet. "I was with you the first time you opened your third eye. Maybe being close to me will help you do it again." He turned his attention to Tina's image on the screen. "I have a witch hunter outside your house tonight keeping watch. He won't come in, he can't be that close. But if something happens, he'll be there. We decided it was too dangerous to leave you unprotected."

"Who did you send, Blaine?" asked Kurt anxiously.

"Mike. Finn already knows he's there. We aren't taking any chances," Blaine replied.

Kurt felt his heart squeeze. Blaine was looking out for the people he loved. "Thank you," he whispered.

Blaine put his arm around Kurt and motioned toward the screen. "Say goodnight. We're going to bed."

"I have to work on opening my chakra," protested Kurt.

"Oh, you'll open for me, sweet witch, I promise you that," Blaine said silkily as he pulled Kurt out of the office.

"Oh, my _God,_" Kurt groaned, feeling his face turn bright red as he heard Tina's choked laughter behind him. He let Blaine lead him into his bedroom. Blaine crossed over to the nightstand and pressed a button. A quiet whirring sounded, and the black drapes along the far wall parted to reveal floor to ceiling windows. Moonlight spilled in to softly illuminate the room, revealing a huge bed draped in a plush deep red comforter, accented with dark blue pillows.

Kurt looked around in awe. "It's _beautiful_, Blaine. This is where you live?"

"Usually." Blaine walked over to capture Kurt's face in both hands and planted a hot, hungry kiss on his lips. "Use your powers. Take your clothes off."

Blaine's abruptness surprised Kurt. But he had to admit, it excited him too, damn it. He felt his jeans growing snug as his body began to respond to Blaine.

Blaine was still holding his face, thumbs stroking gently across his cheeks. "You've tried it your way, sweet witch. I see the strain on your face and I can feel how unfocused your powers are right now. Trust me. Let me help you open your sixth chakra."

Blaine stepped back and pulled his shirt over his head, muscles rippling in the moonlight. He then kicked his shoes over to one side before unbuckling his belt and opening his jeans. He slid the jeans and his boxer briefs to the floor and stepped out of them, kicking them toward his shoes.

Clothed, Blaine looked strong, muscular and tantalizing. Naked, he took Kurt's breath away.

"I'm waiting," Blaine said huskily.

Kurt closed his eyes and retrieved his wandering powers, calling them to him. With a low rustle, his clothes magically slid off his body to a neatly folded pile on the floor.

"Show off," Blaine teased.

But when Kurt opened his eyes, Blaine was staring him with eyes of molten gold, rich with browns and greens and filled with awe and desire. He reached out and took Kurt's hand, drawing him over to the window side of the bed. He sat down and coaxed Kurt into his lap with his back pressed against Blaine's chest and his front turned toward the moonlight. Kurt looked out the window at the lights and outline of buildings against the night sky.

"The windows are special. No one can see in here," whispered Blaine hotly against the sensitive outer shell of Kurt's ear, grinning when he felt his witch quiver in his arms in response. "Lean back against me and feel the moonlight."

Kurt swallowed a low moan. He could feel the strong thighs under him and the warm hands holding firm at his waist. His cock was hard and throbbing, and he could feel Blaine hard and pressed into the cleft of his ass. Blaine's breath was warm on his bare skin. And he was right; Kurt's powers most definitely responded to him. But he needed to tell Blaine.

"I'm afraid of what I'll see," he confessed in a quiet whisper. "I watched my father murder my mother. I don't want to see that again. What if I can't control it?"

A ripple passed through Blaine and he squeezed Kurt's waist a little tighter before raising one hand to Kurt's forehead and tilting him back. "I'll try to help give you direction. But I have to get inside your mind, and we both know how that happens." His hips gave a small thrust of their own volition, drawing a gasp from Kurt's parted lips. A heated surge raced through his groin and Blaine felt as though his cock grew even harder - if it was at all possible. He took a deep breath to steady himself.

"Once I'm in your mind and your chakra opens, you can tell me if something goes wrong and you need me to pull you out," Blaine continued his voice husky with building desire. He slid his hands over Kurt's hips to his thighs, pulling them wide so that Kurt now straddled him. His cock throbbed hot and hard.

Kurt shivered as his powers began to rush through him, responding to the light of the moon on his skin and the touch of the hunter beneath him. Energy pulsed as his chakras fed on the moonlight.

"_Mmmmm_, yeah, baby, I feel you responding. _God_, your desire smells so fucking good." Blaine breathed in deeply as he ran his nose along Kurt's shoulder, pressing wet kisses along his path. The scent of power and need was sweet and intoxicating.

Kurt made a strangled noise as he felt Blaine's teeth nip at his neck. It seemed as though every nerve ending in his body came to life all at once. He tightened his thighs around Blaine's and grabbed his hand to guide it to where his body demanded it most.

Blaine's dark and sensual laughter rumbled through his chest. "Such a greedy witch," he purred. He teased Kurt by running his fingertips lightly down his stomach, close to where he ached to be touched, then backed away to trail lightly back up.

A soft growl of protest rumbled from Kurt's parted lips. He could play the game, too. He reached down to take his cock in his own hand, stroking it firmly and licking his lips as a strong thrill of pleasure began to heat his blood even further. He heard the familiar quiet click of a bottle of lubricant and gasped when he felt Blaine's slicked fingers slide between the cheeks of his ass to circle his hole. His grasp on his cock tightened as the ache in his balls began to build, while a different kind of pressure began to build behind the center of his forehead as his chakras responded.

_I feel something._

_Don't think about it. Think about the light of the moon. And this..._ Blaine slowly slid a finger deep inside Kurt.

Kurt arched back against Blaine, his entire body responding to the combination of magic and the skillful touch of his lover. A low groan escaped from the back of his throat and his mind expanded to absorb them both.

_I feel you. You're pulling me in._ Blaine's breathing became harsher as he slid another finger into Kurt. He knew his rhythm, knew just how to make the lithe body he held respond to him. Blaine crooked his fingers, eliciting a soft strangled noise from Kurt as he writhed in his arms.

Kurt was panting, losing himself to the dual sensation of power and pressure racing through his chakras. _Blaine..._

_I'm right here. Let it happen, I've got you..._

Kurt could feel Blaine's mouth on his neck, hot and wet. He felt the push and pull of Blaine's slick fingers moving in and out of him. The moonlight filled him, burning hotter and brighter until the pressure in his forehead blew open.

_Go with it, love, keep going..._

Kurt rode the silver light, pleasure cresting over him so intense he struggled to breathe. He gasped as he felt a frisson of fear try to work through the haze; but hawk wings cradled him, soothing and calming him.

_Open your third eye, Kurt. You can do it..._

Kurt's eyes flew open, but his regular vision was gone. His third eye took over instead. His mind filled with formless shades of light and color. He was drawn to them, feeling an overwhelming sense of warmth and safety and a need to be closer.

_Ancestors._

_Go to them, sweet witch._

"You hear us," a multitude of voices said, the sound light and lilting.

"Yes."

"We knew you would one day, Kurt. We are so proud of you. You did it."

"I had help. I couldn't have done this without Blaine and his hawk." The thought sharpened the focus in Kurt's mind and reminded him of what he needed. "We need your help to save Sammy. Please, I beg you."

"Call on us when you do the spell. We will reach you through your blood. Remember that, Kurt. The blood. Whole soul blood, don't forget."

Kurt felt lighter as a huge sense of relief washed over him. "Thank you. Am I able to ask anything else?"

"You can ask, but we cannot answer everything. And you only have a short time, Kurt. This is very powerful high magic you are using right now."

Kurt took a deep breath and plunged ahead, getting right to the point. "Have I bound Blaine to me? Are we soul mirrors?"

"You are. All witch and hunter souls were merged and then halved at the time of the curse. Soul mirrors are two halves of a soul that have found each other, a true gift. If blood and sex are exchanged, the two souls bond as one again and break the curse."

Kurt bowed his head. He had known it, known on some level since that first time when he had tried to call his familiar. Blaine had answered his call. He had to keep his emotions in check and keep his third eye open, but he had to know what that meant.

"Is Blaine a familiar now? Is that what I've done?"

"No. A soul mirror is not a familiar. He mirrors and channels your powers. And you do the same thing for him. You mirror each other's strengths. It was your call that brought out his wings tonight. He is protection, you are healing." The souls surrounded him in shimmering lights as they explained.

But Kurt was still unsure. "But have I taken away his self control? His free will to do as he chooses?" It didn't matter what they called it, he couldn't live with himself if that was what he had done to Blaine.

Another swirl of light moved around him. "No. The witch hunter is free. Should he choose, he can walk away from you. He will be cured of his bloodlust. But he will never fall in love with anyone else. He'll always be unfulfilled, always missing half of his soul. But he can live his life in any way he chooses."

Kurt wanted to feel relief. He wanted to be able to tell Blaine he wasn't a familiar and have him believe him. But the fear of him rejecting him made his throat ache. "And what about his hawk?"

"If the hunter rejects you, the hawk will die off. He will be a man, albeit one with unusual abilities. He will still be able to turn invisible, will still have enhanced senses, all of it. But he won't have wings."

Blaine wouldn't be an animal. He would be a man. But there was something else that troubled Kurt. "And what about his soul? Will he lose his soul if he kills a demon witch?"

"We can't answer you this," the voices were tinged with regret. "It's time for you to go."

"No, wait..." But the colors swirled and faded to a white mist, and Kurt felt the sensation of sliding away. Time lost its meaning as he moved through the fog, surrounded by the love of the Ancestors that gave way to the warm security of Blaine's arms. His third eye slid closed and he could see with his normal vision once again. He realized that Blaine had moved him so that he was sitting sideways in his lap. Blaine held him tightly in his arms and Kurt became aware that he was surrounded by hawk wings as well. Had he brought out Blaine's wings?

Blaine raised a hand to run it through Kurt's sweaty hair. "You got scared. I knew my wings would make you feel safe." He lifted them off Kurt and folded them so that they would fade into his back and reform as his tattoo.

Kurt caught his breath. Talk about powerful magic. But would Blaine accept it as his own magic? The stakes were too high for him to find out just yet. "I spoke to the Ancestors."

Blaine nodded. "I know. I couldn't hear them, but I could feel the light of them filling you."

"They are going to help me. Tomorrow at moonrise I'll be able to heal Sammy and remove the curse," Kurt said.

Blaine brightened with hope and relief, but then he tensed as worry flashed in his eyes. "But will you be safe? Asmodeus wants you."

"I didn't ask them about that. But I will be safe enough and I'll be sure to use a salt circle. And my blood, they reminded me that I'd need to use my blood to bring them into the spell." The Ancestors had said he would need whole soul blood, and now that he knew he and Blaine were two halves of a whole soul, his blood was whole.

Blaine didn't look convinced. "What aren't you telling me?" he asked, his voice heavy with suspicion.

Kurt blinked, trying not to tense at the sudden strain in the air between them. "I wasn't in there that long, was I?" He had no idea how much time may have passed.

"A few minutes," Blaine answered, trailing his fingers lightly up Kurt's arm and studying the goose flesh that rose in his wake. "Your witch shimmer was almost blindingly bright while you spoke to them, and now it's gone dull. I can feel you backing away. You're upset and withdrawing from me."

Kurt realized Blaine was right. He was backing away like a coward because Blaine could possibly hurt him. Yet Blaine was doing all he could to help with the spell. He hadn't even freaked out over the hawk wings, and had used them to comfort him. Kurt was angry with himself. And he was tired of being afraid. He reached out with his hands and his powers, gently pushing a wide eyed Blaine back to lie on the bed and moving to straddle him, positioning himself and sinking down to take him deep inside. Rolling his hips, Kurt put his heart and body into loving Blaine, riding him and watching as Blaine fell apart from pleasure under him. What he couldn't tell him with words, he told him with his soul.

* * *

Blaine sat at his desk in his condo. He took a sip of coffee and put his mug on the coaster. Turning his attention to where Mike leaned against the wall, he asked, "Was there any trouble at Tina's?"

"No. All quiet," Mike responded.

"I don't like it," Puck stated flatly. "It's too quiet, if you ask me. Mireles should be looking for his wife. She's knocked up with his kid, and he didn't kill her when he could have. So what the hell is he doing?"

"Being patient and waiting. It's a good strategy," Sam said as he popped open a soda.

Mike looked at Blaine again. "Have you tried calling Damian anymore?"

Blaine nodded. It was surreal, thinking of the possibility that his dad could actually be dead, even though God knew he had wanted to kill him himself more than once. When he'd been a kid, Damian had been okay. He wasn't around a lot, but when he had been, he had treated Blaine decently. But from the time Damian had decided it was time for Blaine to go rogue, he had become a menace that he'd had to fight against constantly. And when Damian had realized his son preferred men over women, he became even more hateful and spiteful.

So now Blaine was left to wonder. Was Damian really gone? Or was this another one of his games?

"And where is Alistair Young?" mused Blaine, turning his thoughts to other matters. "He can't let the Junto find out his son is a witch. He has built his whole rep on being a witch hater and has convinced them that they have to kill all witches to break the curse. And seeing as Asmodeus ordered him to kill Kurt regardless, I have to wonder; where the hell is he?"

Puck looked serious. "You think he'll make a move tonight against Kurt while he does the spell?"

"It's a possibility," Blaine said with a frown.

Sam tried to soothe Blaine's worry. "We have it covered. Kurt should be safe enough. The shore is a deserted stretch and there's excellent look out points for Wes, Puck, Mike and me. We'll be able to keep an eye on things, but be far enough away that the witchcraft won't bother us. Finn will be there near Kurt, and so will you. And I have more hunters for back up."

Blaine nodded. They had been over the plan several times, but he still felt anxious. "Kurt says he'll use a circle of consecrated salt, and the Circle witches will add their powers for protection. He says that should help keep him safe from Asmodeus. And now, moving on to other issues, what do we have on demon witches?"

"Only one fits," Mike replied. "Shelby Corcoran has a daughter about our age named Rachel who disappeared the same night Sammy was cursed."

"Okay. Sam, I need you to find her. Don't get too close, I just need to know where she is," Blaine said.

Sam nodded once. "Do you think Kurt's spell will work?"

Blaine certainly hoped so. "He says it will. He reached his Ancestors and they are going to help. He'll bring them into the magic with his blood."

"Then what is it that's got you worried?" asked Sam.

Blaine breathed out in a quiet huff. "There's something he isn't telling me. But either way, I have to have a backup plan. If for some reason the spell doesn't work tonight, I'll be going after the demon witch Shelby." He looked around the room at each of them. "If this happens and I go rogue, you all made a vow. I expect you to keep it. Understood?"

"Understood," Mike said as the other three men nodded solemnly.

Blaine leaned back in his chair. His hawk tattoo warmed, but nothing else. Kurt had reached his Ancestors, but Blaine had fallen short. There had still been no appearance by The Slayer.

Mike pulled out a small device and pressed a few buttons. "Sam, I'm sending all the info I have on Shelby Corcoran to your phone."

Sam nodded and tossed his empty soda can in the trash as he strode toward the door. "I'm leaving now. Expect me back in a few hours."

"Puck, you and Wes go check out my dad's place. See if you can get close and what you can find out."

Puck grinned. "Can we kill rogues?"

The hawk warmed again. "You find a rogue, you kill him."

Wes grinned as widely as Puck. "Now we're talking. Let's go." The two hunters left.

Blaine turned to study Mike. "You hanging in there?"

Mike's dark eyes regarded him solemnly. "It's under control."

Blaine could feel the turmoil in his friend. Mike was closer and closer to the edge. "You need a few hours to get some release. Go find you a woman or two."

Mike wiped a hand over his face and started toward the door. Then he stopped and looked at Blaine. "Last night I couldn't get her out of my mind. The witch, Tina. All I could see in my head was her picture. I walked around the outside of the house, and I could _smell_ her. She smells like honeysuckle, for fuck's sake. And even after I left I could _still_ smell her. God, I almost feel her on my _skin_."

Blaine straightened up in his chair. "Jesus Christ, Mike, why didn't you leave?"

Mike's eyes narrowed. "Because I might not be able to have her, but there is no way in hell I'll let a fucking rogue have her." And with that, he was gone.

Blaine stared at the empty doorway where his best friend had just been standing. He hoped against hope that he wouldn't be forced to follow through on his vow. But if Mike went rogue, Blaine would kill him.

* * *

Everything was ready. Kurt had all the things he would need to perform elemental magic placed around in strategic points. He took a deep breath, smelling the scent of water and letting it calm him. He had to be calm and in control. He had to heal Sammy.

Tina walked up to him. Her close-fitting white dress was a stark contrast to her loose black tresses. With the moon just beginning to rise, she looked both sexy and ethereal, all at once - just as a witch should. Kurt didn't have many changes of clothing with him, but Tina had bought him a white shirt and pants, both made of soft, loose fitting linen. He wore the shirt open and unbuttoned, and his feet were bare. He wore no underwear. Spell work involved drawing power through his chakras, and tight clothing could tangle up the flow, so soft, flowing materials worked best. Many witches did spell work nude. Kurt knew that once he was into the spell casting, he wouldn't care, but for the before and after, he wasn't about to stand on the lakeshore naked in front of Finn and Tina, much less Blaine's mother and sister.

"Five minutes until moonrise," Tina said softly.

Kurt swallowed and nodded. Tina was there to channel the energy of the Circle witches to support the spell, but she was also there as his friend. They walked together to Sammy. Blaine had her wrapped in a blanket, cradled in his arms. She was too weak to lift her head. Blaine rubbed her back as she coughed, the sound harsh and painful in the quiet night.

Kurt looked at them both in the rising moonlight. Whatever happened, healing Sammy was what was important. Once Kurt told him about the soul mirror phenomenon, Blaine might turn away, but he would still have his sister's life. He could hate Kurt, but at least Kurt would have insured that Blaine would keep his soul and be around to protect his family and lead the Warblers.

Blaine glanced up at Kurt, his eyes sharp. "What's wrong?"

Kurt realized he was unconsciously projecting to Blaine. Their bond kept strengthening. "It's nothing. I'm focusing. I guess I was thinking about how much I want this to work." He gently pushed a stray curl off Sammy's wan face.

"It's going to work," Blaine stated.

Kurt nodded. "Yes. You okay?"

Blaine's brow furrowed. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Well, Tina is a witch. I wondered if you were feeling any bloodlust," Kurt said with a small shrug.

Blaine shook his head. "No. I feel her, I can smell her, but it's a small buzzing. But _you_." Blaine's honey gaze swept down Kurt's form and his voice dropped to a low purr. "_Your_ scent is tormenting me. No underwear, I see."

Kurt couldn't help his body's instant reaction. "No."

Blaine closed his eyes, throat working as he swallowed heavily. His cheekbones darkened with a deep blush.

Kurt remembered their previous times together when calling his mother's magic to his necklace, and then when opening his sixth chakra to reach the Ancestors. "Blaine, I need your help. But we have to stay in control. Your men are watching, far enough away that Tina doesn't incite their bloodlust, but they say they can see everything."

"Yes, they can," Blaine said as he touched Kurt's face lightly and calmed the energy whirling inside him.

Kurt leaned into Blaine's touch, needing the focus he gave him. "Finn and Quinn are here, as well as your mom, Sammy and Tina."

Blaine laughed quietly and grinned. "Kurt, I promise you, I'm here to protect you and Sammy, not ravish you. Do what you need to do and let me worry about the rest. And Kurt," he said, waiting for Kurt to look into his eyes, "don't fight it, okay? You're a witch and that makes you a sensual person. Don't fight the sexual feelings when you open your chakras. Let them have you. I'll be right here with you. There isn't anything wrong or evil about it. It's part of your power, part of who you are."

Kurt caught his breath. Blaine knew him so well. For so many years he had longed for acceptance, and he had found it with a witch hunter. Unable to resist, he leaned in and brushed his lips against Blaine's, a mere whisper of touch. In return, he felt Blaine's wings brush his skin. His actual wings were resting in his tattoo, but Kurt could always feel them through their mind link.

"It's time," Tina said.

Kurt nodded and turned to Tina, taking both of her hands in his. "Thank you. You are more than my friend, Tina. You are my sister. We are bound as witches."

"Yes," agreed Tina, kissing Kurt on each cheek before taking her place beside him. "And you are my brother."

Blaine carried Sammy over to a blanket where Deirdre knelt, waiting for them. He settled her so that she leaned back against their mother.

"Is Kurt going to make me better now?" Sammy asked weakly.

"Yes, baby girl," Blaine answered her as he rose to his feet. He stripped off his shirt and laid it on the ground next to the blanket. His tattoo gleamed in the moonlight, the rich colors looking vivid and real. Kurt needed his hawk as close to him as possible.

"Are you ready, witch?" he asked as he approached Kurt.

Kurt nodded. The moonlight caressed his skin and he felt warm and full of power. His first four chakras were already open and energy was stirring and surging inside him. It was time to take control. Tina opened a container of salt that had been blessed and consecrated. Kurt raised his arms to form a circle and breathed deeply of the night air.

"Pure in whiteness, born of the earth, blessed by the sea, feared by darkness, embraced by light. Salt rise and circle your protection."

A sudden wave rose from the lake and slammed into the shore as the wind picked up. The salt rose into the air from the container and formed a circle, following the path set in Kurt's mind. It settled to the earth in a perfect circle around him and the small group.

Kurt released his breath and quietly thanked the Ancestors for their help in setting a protective circle to keep demons out. His senses sharpened and he could hear Sammy's harsh breathing and Deirdre's whispered prayer. He could hear Tina chanting softly to establish her connection to the Circle. And he was aware of Blaine standing behind him. They weren't touching, but Kurt was aware of every beat of Blaine's heart. He blocked out everything but Blaine. The feel of his body, the smell of his skin, the cadence of his breathing as it synced with his own. He knew Blaine would know when he needed him.

It was time for Kurt to focus his first four chakras and connect to the ley lines. He faced toward the north. "Earth," he commanded. Sand from the shore swirled up in a small vortex and poured into a red crockery dish inside the salt circle.

Kurt turned to the east, arms wide and spirit open. "Air." Wind swirled around him, lifting the open edges of his shirt and caressing his skin before rushing to fill the green balloon tied to a silver weight.

He turned to the west. "Water." A wall of water rose from the lake, higher and higher until it blocked the moonlight. Sammy started crying softly, but Kurt ignored her. He let the power of the water reach into him. His skin grew damp, his hair wet. His body was fluid as though he were one with the water. The wall of water receded back into the lake, letting the moon shine on the orange goblet that was now filled.

Finally, Kurt faced the south. "Fire." With a hiss and crackle, the yellow candle flared to life in its holder.

All four elements flowed to Kurt. He could hear his pulse beating in his ears, growing more rapid with rising energy. His hair stood on end and he felt himself growing hard. He closed his eyes, raised his arms and opened his fifth chakra. He would draw the power of the moon down to meet the ley lines that now rose up in him. He arched back, letting as much moonlight touch him as possible.

"As ancient as time, commander of the sea, let the moon fill me with light and guide me," Kurt chanted softly. He could feel light pouring into him, creating a pull that filled his senses. It grew harder to breathe and he ached as his skin seemed to stretch as though it were too small for him. He felt a tingle in his feet. The earth was sharing more of its power and the energy thrummed through him as it rushed upward.

Kurt knew he was fully hard now and his balls throbbed with an aching need. But he didn't let himself think about that. He accepted as much as the earth and moon were willing to give him, remembering what Blaine had said about the sensual nature of being a witch.  
As he started getting dizzy with all the pulsating power rushing through him, Kurt felt Blaine's hands settle on his waist. They helped steady him and he turned his mind inward to gather all that power and funnel it through his chakras. A low pressure began to build in his forehead, and Kurt closed his eyes and began to push, building more and more pressure in that spot until it felt as though his forehead was bulging. He gave himself to it all; the earth, the moon, and the power of the Ancestors. Kurt felt his sixth chakra fly open and his powers began moving up and down his spine. Only Blaine's hands on him kept him upright. Concentrating hard, Kurt slowly opened his eyes. But it was his third eye that saw now.

Everything was bright but blurry as though he was seeing through an aura of light. He wasn't able to see anything outside of the circle. His entire existence was right there within it. He walked over to Sammy and knelt down next to her. Blaine moved with him, kneeling behind him so that his thighs cradled him. Kurt could feel the warmth of his hands still on his waist and the heat of his erection pressing against him. All of it fed him more strength. He didn't fully understand it, but he accepted it all.

Deirdre reached down and pushed Sammy's bangs back away from her forehead. The mark of the death curse stood out in all the beautiful brightness of the light like an angry black hole. It was lightless, a dark and evil smudge.

Kurt reached into his waistband and drew out the small silver knife Tina had given him earlier. He pulled it out of its protective sheath with an audible swish. Raising his hand, he pricked his thumb, causing blood to well up rich and red.

"I beg the ancient souls for their healing and knowledge. I give you the blood of generations of witches. Enrich it to draw out darkness and heal this innocent child, Samantha Anderson." He pressed his thumb to the death mark.

Blaine wrapped one arm around Kurt's waist and took one of Sammy's hands with the other. Kurt felt a jolt as his powers focused and channeled through his thumb and into Sammy. He raised his voice in a strong chant. "Ancestors, I beg of you, heal this child. Mother Earth, I beg of you, heal this child. Moonlight, I beg of you, heal this child. Sister witches, I beg of you, heal this child."

Flashes of light appeared and moved around the circle. Kurt silently thanked the Ancestors for their presence. The wind built up and blew around them, swirling the sand and raising waves in the quiet surface of the lake. Flames crackled and popped. Kurt raised his voice louder, sending all his healing energy down through his thumb.

Darkness began to form at the tip of his thumb, moving up past the first joint and slithering up his wrist. Pain slammed into him, trying to close his chakras. It felt as though his blood was heating up and burning him from the inside. Agony wormed its way up his hand and arm to crowd in his chest.

Kurt forced himself to breathe as he held his chakras open to stay connected to the earth, moon, and his Ancestors. "I accept this pain and sickness," he repeated over and over. He knew his witch energy would break it down and expel it out again. He just had to endure for now.

"It's working, Kurt!" cried Deirdre, her voice thick with hope and relief. "The spot is getting smaller!"

Kurt heard her, but all he could concentrate on was the sticky darkness filling his lungs and making it harder for him to breathe.

_"Whole blood, Kurt! Blood of a whole soul!"_

Kurt could hear the Ancestors, but it didn't make sense. He _was_ using blood. But suddenly everything began to weaken and dwindle.

And then, it just stopped.

The candle in the south went out.

The water in the west dried up.

The green balloon deflated and fell to the ground.

The sand in the red crockery dish disappeared.

The light of the ancient souls faded away.

And Kurt felt exhaustive fatigue weigh him down as his third eye slammed shut, followed by all his chakras. The connection snapped off and he struggled to open it again. "No, _no!_ Not yet!"

Sammy wrinkled her forehead under his thumb. "Am I better now?"

Kurt didn't know. The forces channeling the healing energy inside him were gone. The dark lines working up his hand and arm faded and vanished. It took almost all the energy he had to move his hand away from Sammy's forehead. A dark smear of blood covered the spot where the death mark was.

Deirdre wiped Sammy's forehead with a baby wipe, her hand shaking.

The spot was still there. It was smaller and lighter than it had been. But it was still there.

Kurt slumped in defeat. He felt Blaine grow rigid behind him. Felt the anger and frustration building. Felt his suspicion break through. Blaine jerked his hands away from him and jumped to his feet.

Tina knelt down next to Kurt and looked closely at Sammy. "You pushed back the curse."

"It wasn't enough," whispered Kurt dully. "I failed. Something went wrong. I couldn't sustain the forces. The Ancestors kept saying blood, but I was _using_ blood!"

"We'll figure something out," Tina said, her voice edged with despair.

"No," Blaine bit out harshly.

Kurt struggled to get to his feet. Finn rushed to him and crouched down, putting an arm around him and helping him up. "Jesus, Kurt, you can barely stand."

"I'll be okay, it'll pass," Kurt said. He shouldn't be this weak, but he couldn't worry about it. He took a shaky breath. "Blaine, let me try again. I can _do_ this. I'll figure out what went wrong."

Blaine looked at him. "There isn't any more time. You did the best you could."

The doubt lacing Blaine's words told Kurt he didn't believe that. But the disconnection was what scared Kurt the most. He knew what that meant. Blaine was going to go after the demon witch. He could lose his soul, and Kurt could lose _him_. But no. It wasn't about him at all. Sammy and Deirdre would lose Blaine, his men would lose him. They all needed him.

"I'll do better! I promise! Listen to me. Blaine, there's something I have to tell you," Kurt said desperately. Maybe if Blaine knew of their soul mirror connection it would help. Or would it hurt? What had gone so wrong with the spell? And why did he feel so weak?

Blaine wouldn't even look at him. "Go back to the condo with mom and Sammy. One of the men will protect you." He turned and strode away, moving at hunter speed.

Kurt couldn't believe it. He ran after Blaine, but there was no way he could catch him, especially not in his weakened state. "No! Blaine! _Come back!_" he yelled in a panic.

Blaine materialized so quickly in front of him that he ran right into him, stumbling back and falling on his ass.

Blaine towered over him, his eyes cold and blazing with fury. His wings were spread out behind him. The moonlight washed over him, showing the powerful muscles in his chest and arms, the width of his shoulders and the full span of the incredible wings behind him. His hands clenched and unclenched into fists and his wings moved with his palpable anger.

"What did you just do?" he spit out furiously.

Kurt struggled to his feet. "I...I don't know! I called out for you to come back." Icy fear dripped down his spine. He was afraid that he had screwed up majorly this time.

"You need to start talking, witch. You called and my wings sprang out. I felt the need, a _compulsion_, to return to you." Blaine's eyes hardened and his voice dropped to a deep growl. "_What have you done to me?_"

His suspicion was like well aimed daggers into Kurt's heart. He floundered for the right words to say. "I didn't know, Blaine, _please_ believe me. I _swear_ I didn't know!" He desperately wanted for Blaine to believe him. To believe _in_ him, like he had tonight before he had failed to remove the curse.

Blaine crossed his arms angrily, obviously impatient. "What. Have. You. _Done_."

Kurt hadn't wanted it to be this way, he had hoped Blaine would be relieved and happy after he'd healed Sammy. But he had failed, and now he owed Blaine the truth. He couldn't delay it any more.

"We're soul mirrors. When the curse happened, all witch and hunter souls were halved. It's all complicated, but basically for years we've been trying to fulfill the curse. Hunters craving sex and blood, witches searching for a familiar to do powerful magic," Kurt explained dully.

Blaine's eyes blazed with molten fire. "You turned me into a familiar."

"_No!_" Kurt cried, trying to make him understand. "You aren't a familiar. We're soul mirrors, half of the same soul! It's not the same!"

Time stood still as they stared at each other. The only sound was that of the water lapping at the shore. Everyone around them stayed back, watching the scene unfold.

Finally Blaine spoke first. "Then I'm not bound to you?"

Kurt flinched, but he had to convince him. "No! You can reject me, Blaine. The choice is yours. You'll never feel the bloodlust again. But we don't know about your soul! You can't go after that demon witch!" Tears slipped unheeded down his cheeks.

Blaine's eyes glittered with rage and his entire face was red. "This was your plan all along, wasn't it?" he thundered. "Keep my sister sick so that I needed you? So I would keep you around until I accepted my role as your pet, your familiar? Everyone was right. Christ, even my bastard _father_ was right about you."

Kurt grabbed his arm, unable to bear the huge distance opening between them. He flinched when he felt Blaine's muscles flex and steadied his feet in case Blaine threw him off. "It was never a plan! God, Blaine, _you_ came to _me!_ I never planned any of this. I wasn't even sure about being soul mirrors until last night!" He was unable to stop his words as his heart poured out of him. "I _love_ you, Blaine! Please, you _have_ to believe me! I would _never_ do anything to hurt you!"

Blaine's face was cold and impassive, his eyes dark and heartless. "Go with my mom. Keep my sister alive until I kill the demon witch. When this is over, when Sammy's better and if I'm not a rogue, I'll find you a safe place. Somewhere far away from me and my family."

He ripped his arm out of Kurt's grasp and turned away. With a few steps, he jumped into the air, releasing his powerful wings and flying away.

* * *

Kurt wanted to drop to his knees and let the pain of Blaine's rejection take him over. But he couldn't. He had things he still had to do. At least he had accomplished one thing. He had told Blaine he loved him. Blaine might not believe it now, but he at least he had heard it from Kurt. Maybe one day he would believe it. Maybe he would be able to remember him without hatred, maybe even with a little fondness.

Finn's hand settled on his shoulder. "I'll kill him for that," he said in a low, deadly voice.

Kurt fought off lingering fatigue as he turned to his brother. "No, you won't. You won't touch him. Blaine didn't deserve this. He's right, I bound him to me. I didn't mean to, but that doesn't change anything. I turned him into my puppet. You'll leave him alone. He never would have chosen me of his own free will."

"Don't you dare lie to me, Kurt Hummel. That man never was and never will be anyone's puppet. He chose you, alright, and when things got tough and his pride took a hit, he lashed out and then turned his back. He doesn't fucking deserve you," snarled Finn.

Kurt managed a weak smile. "Thanks, Finn. You're always there for me. I can't think of the words to tell you what you mean to me in my life. I'm so lucky to have you."

Finn narrowed his eyes and tightened his hand on Kurt's shoulder. "You are coming with me and Quinn back to Tina's."

Kurt shook his head. "I can't do that, Finn. I have to stay with Sammy. I won't let the death curse have her and I may need to remove parts of it, depending on how long it takes Blaine to find the demon witch. I'll be safe enough. The Warbler Hunters will keep me safe for her sake, if nothing else."

Finn's frown grew darker and his jaw tightened.

"Please, Finn," Kurt said softly. "I'll be fine. I have to do this. But I need you to get Tina out of here. There are too many hunters around and everyone's worked up right now."

"I don't want to leave you," Finn said flatly.

"I know. But you need to keep Tina and Quinn safe." Kurt raised his hand to his shoulder to squeeze Finn's hand. "Quinn's making you happy. For that alone, I love her."

Finn's eyes brightened in the moonlight in a way Kurt hadn't seen in a long time. "She makes me care, Kurt. She makes me want to fight to make the world a better place for her and her baby. I haven't felt like that since leaving Lima all those years ago."

"And you deserve happiness, Finn. You always have." Kurt looked around into the night, feeling a sense of urgency to get everyone out of there and away from the impending danger. "Now hurry. Get Tina and Quinn away from here."

Finn studied him thoughtfully for a moment. "You will go with the Warblers, right?"

"Yes," Kurt lied. There was too much at stake to feel guilt about deceiving his brother. He watched as Finn walked away with his arms around Quinn and Tina.

"We need to get Sammy to the condo," Deirdre said, her voice lifeless and troubled. Sammy was asleep in her arms.

Kurt turned to face her. "Yes, you need to go. Hurry and get her out of here. I'm not going."

Deirdre put a gentle hand on Kurt's arm. "Kurt, I know you didn't turn Blaine into a familiar. I am not about to leave you out here."

Kurt felt his heart swell with love for Deirdre for that. But he shook his head. "Yes, you will. I'm going to make sure Blaine keeps his soul. The demon witch will come after me. I'll kill her myself."

"But you can't," Deirdre argued. "You're an earth witch."

"That's not exactly true," Kurt said. "The cost of doing harm is witch karma, but I can do it. And I will. Maybe having a witch hunter for a father will help. But you have to get Sammy out of here. Take Mike, Wes, Sam and Puck with you. I don't want any of them losing their souls in this fight. I made the choice to do the spell for Sammy. I'll deal with the demon witch."

Deirdre was pale, her eyes troubled and unsure. "But Blaine said..." She was a mother who loved her children, but she was a good person and she didn't like leaving Kurt in this situation, no matter what.

Kurt interrupted her, pushing a charm into his voice. "You need to get Sammy home, Deirdre. Hurry. Take the Warblers and go."

Deirdre blinked slowly then nodded. She turned and walked away. Finally, Kurt was alone.

Blaine flew through the night sky, shielding himself so no one could see him. He knew that the demon witch's name was Shelby Corcoran. She had walked in on Damian slaughtering her daughter, Rachel. Furious, she had cast the death curse, but since hunters were immune, it bypassed Damian and Blaine to settle on Sammy.

Sam had found Shelby's home, but she hadn't been there. He followed his instincts to the abandoned house where Rachel had been killed. It was empty, but the bloodstains remained. They were surrounded by black candles that had been burned. The room was heavy with the stench of death and demons. Some sort of demon witch ceremony had been held there using the blood of the murdered witch.

Blaine was sure he would find Shelby there. It was what he should have done in the first place. He should have hunted down the demon witch instead of trusting Kurt. But even now, he didn't want to believe that Kurt had lied to him, had used a child - his sister - to manipulate him. Kurt had turned him into nothing more than a flying monkey, and he had let him. But since he had these wings, he would use them to help him kill the demon witch.

Blaine didn't care if he survived or not. Nothing mattered anymore. It was all a lie. He had wanted to believe his wings were a gift from The Slayer. He had truly believed that The Slayer cared and was trying to reach his hunters once again. That he and the men he cared about as brothers meant something to their god, and that their daily efforts, their struggle to resist the curse and turn back to the ways of The Slayer meant something.

It all meant nothing.

Maybe the witches _had_ killed off The Slayer. Maybe all they needed was a hunter stupid enough to tattoo the wings that would allow them to complete the curse.

Blaine spied the ramshackle old house set back in the corner of a barren lot on an empty street. He maneuvered his wings to land, sniffing the air as his feet hit the ground. He smelled death. Old blood and decay with a hint of sulfur. But there was no sign of life. The house was empty.

Blaine decided to investigate to make absolutely sure. He walked carefully up the broken sidewalk lined with trash and overgrown shrubbery toward the front entrance. The door hung open, hinges broken. Blaine's mind flashed back to the night he had rescued Kurt from rogue hunters. They had been trying to force him through a door just like that.

His hawk screeched piteously, the sound full of suffering. It was a sound of such grief and pain it nearly brought Blaine to his knees in agony. He fisted both hands in his hair and closed his eyes.

"_Shut up_," he snarled. "He doesn't love us." Blaine laughed, the sound bitter and mirthless. "What the fuck am I saying? There's no _us_. The hawk is _his_ creature. He turned me into a fucking animal. And he's still lying, trying to keep me bound to him."

The memory of Kurt's face when he'd said he loved him rose unbidden in Blaine's mind. He had looked so desperate and pleading. Blaine had wanted to believe him, so much. But he couldn't.

Logic told him Kurt had known all along what he was doing to him. He had known when he couldn't transfer his mother's spells by himself. _I've tried, but I just can't do it by myself_, he had said. Kurt knew he couldn't do it without Blaine. And Blaine had gotten so damned horny he hadn't thought it out. He was just as stupid as Alistair Young.

Kurt had to have known, _had_ to have known what he was doing the night he called his familiar. There was no way he _couldn't_ have known. Blaine had been so compelled to go to him. How was it even possible for Kurt to wield that kind of power and not know? No. Kurt didn't love him. He loved using him to control his tremendous power.

Blaine Anderson was no one's familiar, damn it. He grit his teeth as his hawk fretted and moaned inside his head. Determined to ignore the stupid bird, Blaine angrily kicked the busted door, slamming it back into the wall just to hear the satisfying crack of splintering wood. It was dark inside, but his enhanced vision had no trouble showing him his surroundings. On the floor of the front room, his eyes were drawn to the main puddle of dried blood. Dried wax from the melted black candles stuck to the old scarred wooden floor. There was no sound, no movement.

Blaine stared at the abandoned ceremonial circle of candles, his anger and hurt over Kurt's betrayal crashing into a wave of worry. Where was the demon witch?

_Kurt_. Even now, Blaine couldn't stop the fierce protectiveness he felt for him. But he was safe, he was with the Warblers. Blaine would track Shelby to the very gates of hell if he had to in order to make sure she died tonight.

Something shifted in the atmosphere.

Blaine's senses went on full alert. Even his hawk stilled and quit its miserable keening.  
Blaine whirled, whipping out his knife- and his jaw dropped open. Standing there was a huge man with bronzed skin and huge wings of gold. He had to have been easily over seven feet tall. His hair matched the color of his wings. Huge bronze bands embossed with wings were wrapped around his wrists and encircled his upper arms. He wore a toga of shimmering gold that wrapped around his hips and over his left shoulder.

The Slayer had finally made an appearance.

"Shelby isn't here," the god said, his voice a deep vibrato.

Blaine stared at him, each word hitting him deep in his chest. The hunters weren't alone; their god lived. Blaine fell to his knees and bowed his head. "Slayer," he whispered reverently.

"I chose you as my hawk, Blaine Anderson. And until tonight, you have been a valiant hawk, refusing to let the curse destroy you or your men and living in my ways."

"Until tonight?" Blaine raised his head, feeling confused. "Because I'm going to slay the demon witch?"

"No. That is exactly what you should do. You bonded with the witch, binding your damaged souls into a whole. And your decision to slay the demon witch tonight was the final step that made it possible for me to appear to you."

Blaine tried to understand. "That's what you wanted?"

The Slayer shook his head. "No. It's what I needed. The single rule hunters must abide by is to never deny me and always do right in my name. That's what invokes my god powers. You had to have faith enough in me to kill the demon witch despite the personal cost to you."

Blaine was sure he was missing something. "You've appeared now. What is it I need to do?"

"Asmodeus and his demon witches cast the curse in order to separate my hunters from me, and the witches from their Ancestors. That got them out of his way. He depends on being able to create misery on earth in order to feed him power in the Underworld. Otherwise, he can be enslaved by other demons," explained The Slayer.

Blaine felt his chest grow tight. "What do I do?"

"There is a loophole to the curse. Soul mirrors," said The Slayer, anger starting to build in his voice.

Blaine's head began to spin as he remembered Kurt desperately trying to tell him they were soul mirrors. He jumped to his feet as a strong sense of foreboding settled in his chest to squeeze at his heart. "Then soul mirrors really _do_ exist? But the hawk wings...I thought-"

"_Enough!_" thundered The Slayer, rage trembling in his voice. "You earned those wings to protect a very special witch, Blaine. The wings weren't my gift to you, Kurt was. And you rejected him. Yet he still loves you - loves you enough to do your work for you."

_What did The Slayer mean, **his** work? **No!** Not the demon witch!_ Blaine tried to speak, but his entire body was frozen. He stood helpless in the face of The Slayer's fury as the weight of what he had done slammed into him in full force. Kurt had told him the truth. Kurt loved him. And he had walked away from him. Rejected him.

"You wanted to be free of the curse, Blaine. Here is the price Kurt will pay to free you."

The Slayer stepped aside to reveal a decaying wall. Light began to shimmer in the center of it and it spread and opened, revealing the lake shore where he had left Kurt.

Kurt was on his knees, blood pouring from his side. Blaine realized it was witch karma. Kurt had tried to cut the demon witch and it had come back on him three times worse. The demon witch walked around him, taunting him by changing her glamour into the people Kurt loved.

Blaine could feel Kurt's pain, the physical and emotional pain he was in. He could feel the pureness and strength of Kurt's love for him flowing through him, even though his heart was shattered.

Broken by him.

Blaine tried to look away. He had to beg The Slayer to help Kurt. The demon witch was going to kill him! But he was held frozen, forced to watch as Kurt struggled to his feet. A familiar look of fierce determination chased away the pain on his face.

Oh, God. No.

Blaine heard Kurt's voice inside his head. _Ancestors, I beg of you. All I ask is that you be willing to let Blaine live. Let him have my soul. Make him whole. I will take his place as a shade._

_No!_ Blaine's mind screamed as he tried with every fiber of his being to stop Kurt from doing what he was about to do. But Kurt raised his arms against the pain of his injuries and let his powers unfurl in the night. A ball of light formed at the center of his chest. It grew brighter and brighter, and then exploded outward. Flames erupted everywhere.

"_No!_" Blaine's yell fought past the paralysis. Regret and grief slammed into him in harsh waves, driving him to his knees and breaking something inside of him. His hawk screeched and thrashed, desperately trying to get free and get to Kurt. "_Please_, stop this! Take my soul, not his!"

The hawk wings burst from his back, and with a powerful surge, lifted Blaine up and through the rotted roof of the abandoned house. He flew at an impossible speed. He prayed to The Slayer that he still had time to get to Kurt and save him. He had to. Blaine knew he had fucked up big time and it was going to cost him his soul. But if he saved Kurt, it was worth it. Because Kurt was worth any price.

* * *

The moon slid behind the clouds, turning the night even more dark and foreboding. The lake lapped at the shore listlessly and the sand was cold beneath Kurt's bare feet. A cold wind blew, raising goosebumps on his skin.

He felt a weird sense of fatalistic déjà vu. Maybe this was how Elizabeth had felt, knowing her death was coming.

"Kurt. I've missed you, kiddo."

_That voice._ Kurt whirled around to look behind him.

The clouds parted to reveal his father standing there. Not Alistair, but Burt, who he had buried only recently. The familiar ball cap was on his head and his flannel shirt was rolled up at the sleeves. His face was bright and full of life as it had always been when Kurt was a boy, not the sunken paleness it had been at the end.

"Dad?" The word was torn from Kurt. Tears burned his eyes. He missed Burt so much. But the voices surged in his head, the buzzing taking on a frantic tone of warning. His powers spun crazily and out of focus. Now that Blaine had rejected him, Kurt couldn't get control of his high magic.

Burt held out his hands to Kurt. "I came back for you, son."

The words turned the frantic buzzing in his head painful. But Kurt didn't need to hear the actual words of the Ancestors. His heart told him the truth. He was still alone. "You're not my father." The outfit Burt wore was the same he had been wearing in the picture Kurt had chosen for his obituary. "You're the demon witch."

The creature that looked like Burt laughed low in the back of its throat. It held out a hand, palm up, and grunted a command in an unfamiliar tongue.

Kurt jumped back as something slammed into him. With brutal suddenness, his air supply was cut off. The demon witch was strangling him! He clutched at his throat, fighting to take a breath.

The silver Celtic knot at his throat warmed against his skin, reminding him that he controlled the elements. Kurt tore his hands away from his throat and flung open his first four chakras. He was abruptly able to breathe as though he had resurfaced from being underwater.

A feminine laugh trilled in the night. "Slow reflexes. That's what got me killed." The clouds parted and the moon shone on the woman standing there.

Elizabeth stood before him, her long chestnut tresses blowing in the breeze. Moonlight illuminated her blue eyes that were so like Kurt's, and she wore the same torn and bloody clothes she'd had on when Alistair Young murdered her. Wounds began to open and bleed all over her. Then her belly split open, blood gushing forth and flowing freely.

A sharp pain seared Kurt's forehead as his third eye burned with the memory of seeing his mother murdered by his father. Nausea churned through him. "Stop!" he cried. The pain, the hurt and loneliness made him want to reach for Blaine. His heart wept and his powers begged. But Kurt pulled back. Blaine had told him repeatedly that he had to learn to protect himself and keep his powers in his control.

And Blaine had made his choice. He had rejected him.

Kurt stared at the dying image of Elizabeth. He didn't want to look away for fear of what the demon witch would do next. He had to end this. If he died and the demon witch lived, Blaine would have to kill her and lose his soul.

Kurt couldn't fail. Not again.

The only weapon he had was the small ceremonial knife Tina had given him earlier. Maybe he could use it to shock the witch into her own form. He slid the knife out of his pocket and focused his powers. Suddenly, the knife was magically ripped from his grasp and jammed into his thigh. Sharp, hot pain bloomed and blood welled up around the blade, staining his white pants with a deep crimson splotch. Kurt felt dizzy, but he fought against it. He was not going to make this easy. _No one messes with a Hummel, damn it._

Kurt grit his teeth and yanked the knife out of his thigh. He concentrated enough to close the wound there, grateful he was able to heal wounds caused by dark magic.

The creature leaped to her feet and melted into the image of Tina, dressed in the same white dress she'd had on earlier. "Kurt, this is important. I need to tell you to-"

But Kurt could see that this Tina was missing the silver armband that she was never without. This wasn't his friend. A deep rage fueled by the need to end this raced through him. He had to stand for what was right. Kurt pulled his powers through his chakras and blasted the silver knife straight towards the creature's heart.

She screamed in fury and the smell of burning flesh rose, tainting the cool night air.

Kurt knew silver burned demon witches, so he must have hit her. That was the last thought he had as the skin over his left ribcage burst open. Bone shattered and muscle ripped apart. Kurt fell to his knees in agony, panting harshly as he tried to breathe.

_Witch karma._

Kurt cursed under his breath. The witch must not be dead. If he was alive enough to feel this much pain from the triple punishment of witch karma, then the demon witch still lived. His powers sputtered out of his control as the pain cut through his connection to his chakras. And Blaine wasn't there to help him focus.

"Stupid boy," snarled the demon witch as she drew closer.

Kurt had to kill her. He had to make sure she died with him, or Blaine would...

_Don't think about him!_

Kurt fought back the image of Blaine, fought against the constant internal need for him. Instead he forced himself to quickly consider his options. Earth? Water? Fire? He supposed he could drown them both, or cause an earthquake to open the ground to bury them.

But _fire_. Fire destroyed everything.

Kurt rose to his knees. He had to reach his powers, and that meant he had to accept the pain and bring it into himself. His broken ribs and torn skin and muscles filled him with red hot agony. He was growing more and more dizzy with the loss of blood. But he accepted it, as he would accept his death. He prayed one final prayer: _Ancestors, I beg of you. All I ask is that you be willing to let Blaine live. Let him have my soul. Make him whole. I will take his place as a shade._ Without his soul, he would be trapped between worlds, a shade with nowhere to go. He accepted that, too.

Kurt closed his eyes and reached up with a bloody hand to touch his necklace. Instantly, he felt the warm light touch him. Elizabeth was with him. It was enough to reconnect him to his chakras and reach his powers. He knew he would not have focus and accuracy. Not without Blaine. So he had to bring an inferno of fire, enough to hit the demon witch and consume them both. As he raised his arms to summon the element of fire, he heard the loud screech of a hawk.

_His_ hawk.

Kurt opened his eyes and snapped his head back as the sense of déjà vu shattered and his own destiny shifted. The clouds parted and moon shone on the massive winged shape coming down toward them from the sky.

_Blaine!_ Kurt's entire being reached for him, his heart swelling and the love he felt pushing past the pain. In return, he felt the fierce protectiveness of wings pass over him.

The demon witch screeched a word in the demon tongue and flames burst forward from the very bowels of the earth.

"_No!_" shouted Kurt as he summoned the water of the lake, extinguishing the flames before they could touch Blaine. His focus and aim were true and the flames died with a hissing sputter.

Blaine landed on his feet in front of Kurt. His wings were fully expanded, protecting him and shielding his view. Kurt saw the blur of movement as Blaine unsheathed his knife. He ducked down to be able to see and nearly gasped as the creature took on the form of Deirdre.

"It's a trick," he whispered in warning.

Blaine never hesitated. With lightning quick movement, he stabbed his knife directly into the heart of the image of his own mother. The image shattered as the witch screamed. The glamour faded to reveal a woman with long black hair, her face contorted with pain as dark smoke poured out of the wound and thick blood welled up around the blade of Blaine's knife.

"No one hurts my witch. _No one_," Blaine snarled in a thunderous growl.

The smell of burning flesh was sickening, and Kurt closed his eyes as a hot sulfuric wind whipped wildly around them. As suddenly as it appeared, it was gone and all was quiet, except for Kurt's labored breathing.

Kurt opened his eyes in time to see Blaine's wings fold and fade into his body, once again becoming his tattoo. Truly, it was awesome magic. Kurt remained on his knees, pinned there by the incredible pain of his injuries and fighting not to lose consciousness.

Where was the demon witch?

"Gone," Blaine answered Kurt's unspoken question as he turned and dropped to his knees next to him. "When she died, the demon pulled her into the Underworld." He frantically reached for Kurt, pulling him into his arms and onto his lap. "Kurt! Kurt, come on. We don't have much time. We have to get you healed quickly!"

Kurt forced his eyes to stay open past the pain. He could feel his body growing weaker. His breathing was labored and shallow as he looked at Blaine, trying to fill his mind and body with him to take those images with him into death.

"I can't, Blaine," he whispered faintly. "It's witch karma. I can't heal it."

* * *

***hides***

**TBC**

**ittlebitz . tumblr . com**


	12. You Are My Gift

**Title:** Hot Under My Skin

**Author:** Ittlebitz

**Pairing:** Kurt/Blaine

**Rating:** NC-17 over all, NC-17 this chapter

**Warnings for this** **chapter:** brief description of blood and injuries, some magic thrown in, sex (oral sex, barebacking, bottom!Blaine this go round, in case that's an issue)

**Disclaimer:** I own nothing. If I owned Glee, TBU would not have happened. Or existed. Or even been a twinkle in anyone's eye. I am still not happy. Thank goodness for fanfiction and AUs. Blood Magic is my guide.

**Author's Note:** This chapter is much shorter than the others, but it was a good cut off point. Hopefully this will help take the edge off the cliffhanger of last chapter. Except I think I kind of ended on another one. Welp. But I am already working on the next chapter, so the wait shouldn't be so long this time!

Thank you as always to my uber fabulous beta, Sam, for making this pretty for me! *mwah* And thank you to everyone who took time to review or come visit me on Tumblr. Loves to you all!

* * *

Blaine shook his head frantically at Kurt's pained whisper.

"No. _No!_ You have to, Kurt!" He took Kurt's hand and placed it gently on the bloody wound.

The slight touch was like burning torture. Kurt groaned painfully as his shattered ribs screamed. Darkness closed in on his vision, threatening to take him under.

"Kurt, _please_, look at me," Blaine pleaded urgently. "Come on, sweetheart, you've _got_ to do this. Look at me. Breathe with me."

Just like that, Kurt felt his uneven breathing level off. His breathing fell into sync with Blaine's and he felt calmer. He knew his wounds wouldn't heal, but easing his breathing would help him stay conscious and give him a little more precious time with Blaine. He couldn't believe Blaine had come back. Had saved him. But Kurt was still worried for Blaine.

"Please," Kurt begged softly. "They have to let you keep your soul. You are my soul mirror, our souls are bound. When I die, you'll be whole."

"No! Damn it, Kurt, _no_. You're going to live. You _have_ to!" Blaine's voice broke as he laid his hand over Kurt's.

Kurt felt his powers react to Blaine as always, even despite his pain. They rushed to his touch, moving around the devastating injuries to reach up through their joined hands and slip to Blaine. Kurt shuddered once, then relaxed. He was sure his soul was leaving him to join with Blaine's.

"_NO!_ Stop. Right now, Kurt, pull them back. Heal!" Blaine snapped, his eyes a fiery gold.

Kurt could feel Blaine's pain and tried to reassure him. "It doesn't work that way. It's okay, Blaine. You'll be free, I promise. You'll be whole." He closed his eyes as cold shivers wracked him, the tremors driving sharp spikes of pain through him as his ribs ground together and torn muscle pulled. He felt Blaine pull him closer to him.

The heat of Blaine felt good. He smelled so good; his scent of sandalwood that had drawn Kurt in from the start was a comfort as Kurt felt life slowly slipping away from him. He held tight to this, wanting to have this to draw on when he passed over as a shade for eternity. He heard a soft swoosh and felt Blaine's wings fold around him, cradling him with their warmth. He had brought out his wings to warm and comfort him. Just like the wings from his childhood.

Blaine stood with Kurt cradled close to him, keeping his wings wrapped around him. "It's going to be okay, everything will be fine. I just have to get you to Tina, that's all. Get you to Tina and she'll help us. You just need her help and then you need some rest."

"Blaine," whispered Kurt sadly. He flinched as another tremor took him over.

"I just have to get you to Tina. She'll make everything okay and then you need some rest, that's all," Blaine babbled brokenly, sounding anguished and miserable. "She'll fix you but we have to go, I don't know how long we have..." His voice trailed off and he stopped walking as a large shadow fell over them.

Kurt opened his eyes and saw a huge man standing there in front of them. He was golden with enormous wings, just like the pictures of angels from his grandfather's Bible when he was little. Kurt wasn't sure if he was hallucinating or if he was about to be proven wrong in the existence of angels after all.

The man spoke, his voice low and pleasant. "The death curse is broken. Samantha will live."

Blaine bowed his head and breathed deep. "Thank you. And you'll see Kurt safe and well?"

Kurt felt new fear for Blaine rush through him. "Blaine? What is this?"

Blaine looked at him, his face gentle and his eyes brightening with unshed tears. "This is goodbye." He leaned down and pressed his lips softly to Kurt's.

Blaine's mouth was tender but Kurt could feel his emotions, wild and fierce. Wave after wave of love, passion and possessiveness washed over him. And under it all, there was sacrifice. His hawk wings stroked their feathers lightly along Kurt's skin as they kissed. Blaine lifted his head and tenderly wiped tears off Kurt's cheeks with one thumb. "You are my gift, Kurt. I love you, and I will continue to love you for all eternity. Never forget that."

Kurt's head spun even more with Blaine's words. Blaine loved him? Even though he had accidentally bound him to him as a soul mirror? "Then why are you saying goodbye?"

"I choose you, Kurt. Your life and your soul. You'll continue to live, and when you die, you'll go to Gort Na Gréine with your mother. You can reincarnate if you want, but it'll be your choice," Blaine said softly.

Kurt's heart was beating frantically, causing his injuries to pulse with fiery agony. Blaine was going to die for him and go shade! _"No!"_ he gasped, struggling weakly in Blaine's arms. He leveled his gaze on the winged man standing before them. "The Slayer."

The man inclined his head in acknowledgement.

Kurt looked him over, noting the golden bands with wings embossed on them that encircled his massive arms. It was clear that the god cared about his hunters. Kurt had to persuade him. "It isn't fair to take Blaine's soul. It's me that should be punished. He didn't choose me of his own free will. He didn't offer his soul to me from free will. I bound him to me with magic. And now I give him my soul, my life, freely. I give him everything."

Blaine was struggling to speak, but The Slayer had silenced him. Kurt looked at Blaine and saw the pain and anger on his face, his throat and jaw working against the freeze. "Blaine, I love you with all of my soul. I give you both my love and my soul freely. No spells, no magic, no compulsion. You and the Warblers have to work against this curse that's destroying all of us. You don't need me anymore. You're free of the bloodlust."

The words and emotion behind them drained him. He was dying. He had intended to kill with his powers, and he would pay the price for that. He didn't know what an eternity in between worlds would be like. But he was fading fast, the darkness closing in on him and taking away the light he loved. Kurt figured he would never feel the moon or sun touch him ever again. But it was worth the sacrifice for Blaine to live on and be free of the curse. Kurt felt his heartbeat slowing as his breathing grew more faint. His eyes fluttered shut.

Blaine's agonized voice tore through the fog starting to surround Kurt. "_No!_ Save him! Please, _please_, I gave you my soul, my life, I'll do anything, give you anything you want!" Kurt wanted to soothe him, tell him it wasn't all so bad, but he didn't have the strength left. And it broke his heart all over again, hearing the pain in Blaine's voice, because he didn't want Blaine to hurt.

_"Enough!"_ The Slayer said firmly. "Blaine, cut your hand and lay it on Kurt's wound."

Kurt felt Blaine drop to his knees, shifting him to lie back in the crook of his arm. He forced his eyes open and saw Blaine take out his knife and slice the palm of one hand. Bright red blood welled up from the cut. He gently laid his bleeding hand on Kurt's side. "Take my blood, sweet witch. Let it give you the strength you need to heal."

Kurt raised his eyes to stare into Blaine's. He felt the stir of his powers in his chest, gaining strength as Blaine's blood mixed with his own. They rushed through him, filling him up and making him arch in Blaine's arms, groaning with the pain.

Hawk wings wrapped around him, caressing him as energy grew inside him. The pain lessened enough for his powers to reconnect and surge to his control. The shattered bones and torn muscle grew hot as a pure white light covered Blaine's hand. This was what had been missing when he had tried to heal Sammy. He had needed Blaine's blood mixed with his to make the spell work. Whole soul blood, the Ancestors had told him. And he hadn't understood. That's why the spell failed. That's why he had been so drained. He had needed the strength of both of their bloods combined.

"_Yes_, that's it, Kurt. You're healing." Blaine's voice was hoarse with relief.

Kurt's eyes blazed blue fire. "I'm going to heal, Blaine, and then I swear to you I am going to kick your ass. And your Slayer's ass, if I have to. I am not letting you sacrifice your soul for me!"

"Silence!" boomed The Slayer, the word echoing into the night. "Kick my ass, indeed," he grumbled, sounding amused. "Do you hear that?" he said, looking up, the moonlight causing his face to glow even more. "Your witch has a fighting spirit. He brings hope to us all."

Kurt looked at him with wide eyes. Who was he talking to? The Ancestors? He looked at Blaine, who grinned widely. Kurt heard his voice clearly inside his head.

_He likes you._

The Slayer sighed and shook his head. "Even now they talk to each other. Absolutely no respect."

Kurt couldn't help smiling.

_It's because we are of one soul. Together we are whole and powerful._

The Slayer turned back to him, smiling gently. "Yes, you are. Your souls have joined and bonded as soul mirrors. And tonight you have both proven your selflessness and honor." He stepped closer, reaching out for the silver Celtic knot at Kurt's throat. "Son of a witch hunter, soul mirror to my hawk. So that your power will have wings. You belong to the Ancestors, but you are my child, too. I will always hear you."

Kurt felt the silver warm and shift at his neck. He didn't have to look to know that the intricate swirls had shifted into a pair of wings in flight. Deep emotion swept over him and he bowed his head in thanks, unable to speak.

The Slayer turned to Blaine. "Blaine, give me your knife."

Blaine bowed his head and handed him his silver handled knife.

Kurt shifted anxiously. What was about to happen?

_Easy, my love. Whatever He chooses to do, no harm will come to you. But I have taken His wings and pledged my life to The Slayer._

"Hold out your right hand, Blaine Anderson. Palm down and thumb extended," ordered The Slayer.

Blaine held out his hand as ordered.

The Slayer moved at such a speed that before Kurt realized anything had happened, there was a half moon slice at the base of Blaine's thumb. Even though blood welled up, Blaine didn't flinch or make any sound.

The Slayer turned to Kurt. "Hold out your left hand, Kurt Hummel. Palm down and thumb extended."

Blaine wrapped his left arm around Kurt's waist reassuringly.

Kurt felt the fear leave him. There in the moonlit night, with the lake behind them rippling from power, the earth solid under them and The Slayer god before them, Kurt held out his left hand as directed. He never saw The Slayer move, but the slice into the flesh of his thumb painlessly appeared. Blood welled up and slowly ran down his hand.

"Put your palms together," ordered The Slayer.

Reverence filled Kurt, and he felt the same from Blaine. He turned and raised up on his knees to face Blaine, who was kneeling there in front of him. They pressed their palms together, their thumbs lining up. The cuts were a perfect match, forming a flawless circle around their thumbs pressed together.

"Call your Ancestors to you, witch," The Slayer said as he wrapped his hand around their thumbs.

Kurt felt power rush swiftly through his chakras. With Blaine's guiding force assisting him, he easily opened his sixth chakra. His third eye showed him the light of the Ancestors surrounding them.

"As true soul mirrors, you are bound. May you always reflect the courage, honor and strength to fight the blood curse. May you always protect the innocent and fight for what is right. We give you the gift of time eternal to aid you," The Slayer boomed, his voice reverberating through them both. Lightning split the night sky overhead, arcing to the surface of the lake, followed by the explosive boom of thunder. The ground beneath them rumbled and shook, and a wild wind whipped around them.

Kurt's third eye slowly drifted closed as the wind died down and they were alone on the lake shore, hands still pressed together. The Slayer and the Ancestors were gone. Blaine's knife gleamed in the moonlight on the sand between them. Kurt gasped quietly.

"Your knife," he whispered softly.

Blaine reached down with his left hand and picked it up. Hawk wings were stamped into the silver hilt. "It matches your necklace."

They were going to live. And Blaine had been given the position of the Hawk, leader of Hunters. Kurt felt happiness welling up inside him, but he had to know. "Do you forgive me, Blaine? For binding you to me? I honestly didn't know what was happening at the time, and by the time I realized what was going on, I was too scared to tell you. I was so afraid you would throw me out and go after the demon witch."

Palms still pressed together, Blaine twined his fingers with Kurt's. "You are a part of me, the best of me. Never be afraid I'll reject you, ever. I'll never say goodbye to you."

Kurt felt the truth of Blaine's words, but he still wanted Blaine to understand that he hadn't known what would happen. "But when I called for a familiar..."

"I answered you. I came to you. Not because of compulsion, but because I felt your call and I answered. Deep down even then, I knew I belonged to you. Familiar, soul mirror, call it whatever you want. None of it matters. No matter what, I belong to you," Blaine said quietly as he gave Kurt's hand a squeeze.

"I saw your wings that night in your bed, Blaine. They spread out just as you came. _God_, I had never seen anything more powerful or beautiful in my life. I wasn't sure that I hadn't just imagined them," Kurt whispered.

Blaine smiled brilliantly, easing some of Kurt's nerves. He brought their joined hands to his mouth and pressed a kiss against Kurt's hand. "I didn't feel them. But when we're together, when I'm inside you, I lose control. There's no feeling like it anywhere."

They looked at their hands. The blood from the cuts was gone and each of them had a perfect circle around the base of their thumbs. Blaine's breath hitched. "Immortal lifelines," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "They've given us immortality."

"So you're stuck with me for eternity?" asked Kurt, arching a brow and raising his lips in a small smile.

Blaine dropped his hand to cradle his face with both hands. "No, Kurt. I choose you for eternity. You are my gift. My love and my life. I will protect you and love you always, Kurt. Always." He kissed Kurt fiercely, a kiss full of passion, emotion and love.

Kurt had been through much this evening; thinking he had been rejected by Blaine, battling the demon witch and thinking he was going to die, being saved by Blaine and gifted with immortality by The Slayer. And now he knew that Blaine loved him in return. Need and desire washed over Kurt like wildfire, igniting his blood and pooling hot in his groin. He sank his fingers into Blaine's hair, tugging at the curls as he opened his mouth to deepen the kiss.

Blaine responded with a low growl deep in his throat. "_Kurt_. Let's go home, witch. Someone could see us here. I need to get you in my bed so I can fuck you until neither one of us can move."

Kurt smiled slyly. "No one's around, Blaine. You would hear or smell anyone before they could get too close to see too much. Besides, let them watch if they want to. I don't know about you, but I'm feeling like a million bucks right now."

"You nearly died tonight, Kurt, you need better than the ground," Blaine argued weakly, losing his resolve as Kurt pressed against him and began licking his neck. He shuddered when Kurt reached around to grab his ass with both hands, kneading the firm flesh insistently.

"Let me be the judge of how I feel and what I need, love." Kurt breathed deep as his witch energy surged through him, warming his skin even more so that it felt too tight for his body. His power pulsed deep inside him, fed by the elements of the night, touched by the moonlight and aching for the man before him. He wanted Blaine right then, skin on skin.

"You have my heart, Blaine. Join with me. I want you. I _need_ you." Kurt used his powers to get rid of his torn and bloody clothing.

Blaine swallowed heavily as his eyes raked over Kurt standing there, clothed only in silver hawk wings and moonlight that made his shimmer even more brilliant. He was gorgeous, already hard and ready for him. "You wear my wings, witch," he growled, his voice low and husky with desire. He ran a hand up the inner part of Kurt's thigh possessively. _"Mine."_

Kurt felt his cock throb in agreement. _Yes_. He was Blaine's, and Blaine was his. He could see the green fire blazing in Blaine's eyes. And he knew his own eyes burned with equal intensity. This was going to be a claiming, a marking. Not making love, not having sex. Kurt spread his legs slightly, steadying himself. And then he magically took Blaine's clothing, leaving his silver knife within reach.

_God_, Blaine was glorious like this. He knelt before Kurt, moonlight spilling over his muscular shoulders, down his toned stomach to the trail of hair leading to where his cock was thrust out between powerful thighs. He moved forward and took Kurt's aching cock in his hand, beginning to stroke it firmly.

Kurt felt the touch of Blaine's tongue on his cock, teasing at the slit before moving to the base and licking his way up. He moaned loudly when he felt Blaine circle the head and then take him fully, deeply. His powers rushed to meet Blaine's mouth, centering in his groin and moving between them, causing pleasure to spike within them both. Kurt felt the sweep of feathers caressing his overheated skin, down his back and across his hole, causing him to gasp. He felt his world swirling around him, losing himself to the sensations of feathers and tongue and _Blaine_. Small noises of pleasure were leaving him with each breath, and he wasn't sure how much longer he could stand up on his own.

And then he heard Blaine in his head. _Mine. All mine, sexy witch. Your taste is mine, too. Come for me, sweetheart._

Kurt felt the pressure that had built up in his balls surge outward as his orgasm took him, tearing a loud shout from his throat. Blaine growled his approval around his cock, the vibrations milking more pleasure from him. He barely started catching his breath when Blaine rose up and took his mouth possessively. Kurt could taste himself on Blaine's tongue as he slid it into his mouth. Their tongues danced against each other sensuously, touching and tasting.

Kurt could feel Blaine pushing against him, trying to coax him down. He pulled away from the kiss and lay back on the beach. Blaine moved to cover him with his body, kissing him again and moving his hard cock between his spread thighs, thrusting. Kurt shivered as the head of Blaine's cock brushed back and forth against the underside of his balls and his sensitive hole. He loved the feeling of Blaine inside him, stretching him and filling him. But tonight, as his witch powers swirled and crackled around them both, Kurt felt a surge of wild possessiveness sweep through him–a need to claim his Hunter in return.

With a low growl, Kurt flipped their position so that he had Blaine on his back. Blaine's eyes were startled for a moment, but grew hot as he watched Kurt. Kurt raked his gaze over Blaine possessively, then took his hands to pin them above his head, pleased when Blaine made no move to pull away.

"_Mine_, Blaine," he purred seductively as he leaned down to nip at the point where Blaine's pulse thudded in his throat. He licked the small bite, loving the salty taste. Kurt breathed in deeply, smelling the scent of sandalwood that grew heavier with Blaine's desire. Keeping Blaine's hands held above him with one hand, Kurt ran the fingers of his other hand lightly up and down Blaine's hard cock, then down to cup his balls gently. He traced his fingers around them before moving down further to circle his hole teasingly. In a moment of inspiration, he focused his energy in his fingertips as he brushed lightly over the tight pucker. When Blaine jerked, gasping and then moaning low in response, Kurt smiled to himself. It was heady to have this additional power, to make this strong and mighty man fall to pieces because of him.

Kurt focused again and within seconds his fingers were slippery with lubrication. He rubbed his fingers around Blaine's hole, slicking it up in preparation. But he had to be sure. Looking into Blaine's eyes, he asked, "Is this okay?"

"More than okay," Blaine whispered huskily as he lifted one knee to spread his legs wider.

Kurt shivered as desire sizzled along the surface of his skin. He pressed a finger in slowly, watching in fascination as Blaine's eyes fluttered shut, his lashes long against his flushed cheeks. A low growl escaped him as he began working on marking Blaine's throat. Blaine tilted his head back to give him easier access.

_Yes, YES. Take it, sexy witch. I'm yours, all yours._

Kurt smiled against Blaine's hot skin as he worked and stretched him open. Blaine was writhing under him, panting and groaning in a way that went straight to Kurt's cock. A wave of energy pulsed through him as he knelt up between Blaine's legs to position himself and wrapped around them both.

"Ready?" Kurt asked, wanting nothing more than to bury himself deep inside Blaine.

"Fuck, _yes_," gasped Blaine. "Now, Kurt, I need you now!" He barely had a moment to catch his breath before Kurt pushed forward, burying himself deep in one powerful thrust. Blaine arched his back as Kurt's powers moved through him like a bolt of lightning, expanding out from where their bodies were joined and wrapping around him. His cock grew harder, but he didn't move to touch it yet.

Kurt leaned up to watch Blaine as he continued to thrust into him. His powers swirled around them again, running like an electric current through their bodies. Waves began to form in the lake as the wind picked up, gaining strength as their movements grew more frantic.

"You own me," Blaine moaned as he wrapped his hand around his hard cock and began stroking himself in time with Kurt's rhythm.

Kurt groaned low in his throat and pounded harder and deeper with each thrust of his hips. Hot energy swelled into another powerful wave to whirl around them both and squeeze. White light formed between them to grow in strength and intensity as Kurt felt his control slipping. Blaine writhed under him and Kurt heard the joyous screech of his hawk as he came in white stripes over his hand and belly. Pleasure burst over him in heated waves of swirling colors and with a hoarse shout he lost himself in Blaine, thrusting his hips deep one final time before he fell forward to collapse. He lay on Blaine and wrapped his arms around his neck and was vaguely aware of Blaine's arms wrapping around his waist to hold him close. As they lay there, catching their breath and reveling in their closeness, he heard Blaine whisper again softly in his mind:

_You own me. I'm yours forever, my love._

* * *

"Blaine!" Sammy yelled happily, running out of her room as soon as she heard his voice.

Blaine grinned widely and let go of Kurt's hand to scoop her up and twirl her around. She was wearing a pink My Little Pony nightgown and her damp hair smelled like baby shampoo.

Sammy wrapped her arms tightly around Blaine's neck and squeezed as tightly as she could. "I'm all better! No more shadows! But I don't wanna go to sleep, because what if they're just waiting for me to fall asleep to come after me?" she fretted briefly before smiling again. "But look! Wes brought me Tigger! I still don't wanna sleep though."

Blaine felt his head spin as he tried to keep up with her fast paced chatter. "Show me your forehead, baby girl."

Sammy shoved her bangs up off her forehead. It was smooth and unblemished with no mark to be seen, thank The Slayer. She kicked her legs excitedly against him. "See? All gone! Can I have hot chocolate? I want hot chocolate! And cookies!"

Blaine laughed as he looked over to the couch where Deirdre was sitting. She was smiling widely with tears of joy streaming down her face. He shifted Sammy and held out his arm to his mother. She jumped up and rushed to them, wrapping her arms around her children as Blaine hugged her to him.

"Mommy's been crying an awful lot tonight. She needs hot chocolate and cookies, too," Sammy said, her little face serious.

Blaine hugged them both tightly and laughed.

Kurt smiled at the little group. "Hey, Sammy, how about you and I go to the kitchen and get cookies and milk? If it's okay with your mom?"

Sammy held her arms out to Kurt with a smile of happiness.

Kurt hugged her to him tightly. "Deirdre?" he asked, his voice uncertain.

Deirdre let go of Blaine and walked to him, taking one of his hands. "Kurt. I don't know how to thank you. I can't believe I left you there by yourself by that lake."

Blaine saw Kurt flush pink and sighed. "He charmed you into leaving, Mom. Witches can be sneaky, you know."

"No, Blaine, you hush right now. A part of me knew what he was doing. I chose you and Sammy over him." Deirdre squeezed Kurt's hand. "Never again, Kurt. You belong to us and we won't ever leave you alone again."

Kurt smiled shakily at her as emotion threatened to overtake him.

Sammy bounced in Kurt's arms excitedly. "You can be my brother, too, Kurt! Just like Blaine! Do you want a cookie? I want a cookie. And maybe chocolate milk. We can both have some..."

Sammy's voice trailed off as a laughing Kurt carried her into the kitchen. Blaine could clearly feel the delight and affection Kurt was feeling for his sister.

His mother's voice brought him back. "What happened, Blaine?" Deirdre asked.

"I'm curious, too," came Mike's voice from behind them. He walked into the living room, followed by Wes, Puck and Sam. "I can see the wings on the handle of your knife."

Blaine turned to face his men. "First thing's first; the next time any of you leave my witch unprotected, I will kill you."

All four men nodded, their faces serious. No excuses or explanations needed.

"I went to kill the demon witch Shelby. But she wasn't at the house where her daughter had been murdered, as we thought. She wasn't there, but The Slayer was."

"You saw Him," Mike breathed, his voice thick with amazement and reverence. "He's alive."

"Then your wings are from The Slayer, not Kurt," Puck stated in awe.

Blaine nodded, feeling the emotions radiating off his men. They had waited for this day, scarcely daring to hope. And it was here, yet there were still so many unanswered questions.

Sam cleared his throat. "So your curse is gone, then?"

"It's gone," Blaine confirmed. "The curse has a loophole. Soul mirrors, two halves of a whole soul. Kurt is my soul mirror, the other half of my soul and together we are whole. All The Slayer needed from me was a show of faith. Going after the demon witch was it."

Wes took a deep breath. "Then there's hope for us. We just have to find our soul mirrors?"

"Come on. Let's go to my office," Blaine said, knowing his men needed time to collect their thoughts. He took his seat behind the desk and his mom came to stand beside him. The Warbler Hunters settled into the room and gave all their attention to Blaine as he recapped the night's events.

"You're immortal now?" Deirdre asked him, resting a hand on his shoulder.

Blaine patted her hand. "It doesn't mean I can't die, Mom. Remember, Alistair Young has the Dagger of Immortal Death, and that's one way to kill me. But I'm even harder to kill now than I was before." He would outlive his mother, which was hard but not necessarily unexpected. Children were supposed to outlive their parents. But he would most likely outlive Sammy, too. She would grow old while he remained the same. He could handle it as long as he had Kurt. That would make it a little easier. Knowing there was an afterlife that existed was a comfort, too.

Deirdre smiled at him. "You've become the man you were born to be, Blaine. You did it. You fought the curse and won. You killed the demon witch and you aren't rogue. Your soul is safe. And you found love."

"That's some deal," Wes said. "You're free of the curse and you get a mate, a soul mate or soul mirror or whatever. But The Slayer turned your raven into a hawk from the beginning before you even knew Kurt. Our tattoos stayed the same."

The Warblers all looked at Blaine. They all needed some reassurance that they were just as important to The Slayer as he was. Blaine was the leader, and he would lead.

"The Slayer had the wings of each of his hunters branded on the bands he wore. Not just hawk wings, but all wings. You are The Warbler Hunters and you belong to Him. He hasn't abandoned you. The more we believe in Him, the stronger He is," Blaine stated.

"You believe our soul mirrors are out there somewhere?" Puck asked. "How are we supposed to find them?"

"Yeah," Mike added. "It's not like we can hang out with the witches. Just being near them sets off the bloodlust."

Blaine knew Mike was struggling ever since being around Tina. _Interesting..._ he thought. "I don't have all the answers, but I do believe that each of you has a soul mirror." He looked each of them in the eye. "This is all the more reason for us to try to protect earth witches. They are our salvation, not our destruction. Young has it all wrong."

"We've already started," Wes said. "We set up the safe house for the witches that were in the Escalade. Since it's hard for any of us to get near witch blood, we can send Finn when earth witches are attacked by rogues. He can get them to safety while we take care of the rogues. Santana will take care of them from there."

"Sounds like a plan," Sam agreed.

Blaine nodded, feeling pride in his men swelling in him. "For now, I'll take care of any demon witches we come across. I don't know what might happen to any of you should you kill a demon witch before you find your soul mirror, and I won't take that chance. And we'll keep the club. Hunters will still need a place to control the bloodlust." He could see in each of their faces the hell they fought each day. While he was grateful to be free of the curse, he wouldn't stop until each of them was free as well.

"We need to figure out a way to work directly with the witches," Wes said thoughtfully. "Maybe we can set up some sort of system to warn them if we get any intel that a rogue has targeted a specific witch. Do you think Kurt can help us with that?"

"We can ask him," Blaine said. The flickering of the flat screen on the wall stopped him from saying anything else. He looked up and froze for a moment before a flash of fury swept over him. The image on the screen was of three steel examination tables equipped with restraints gleaming coldly under bright lights. In the background was a large cage with five crying women inside.

They had to be witches. The camera showed bright red blood oozing from several cuts on them, and their clothing was torn and covered with rust colored drying blood. Their eyes had the slight tilt at the edges characteristic of all witches. Each was chanting softly, either in prayer to their Ancestors or in an attempt to connect to their powers. But rogues knew multiple ways of disconnecting witches from their powers. Cuts were one way, but drugs and stun guns could create confusion as well.

"That's my dad's place," Blaine growled, surging to his feet. "Mike, confirm that."

Mike quickly took a seat in the chair Blaine had vacated. His fingers flew over the computer keyboard as he traced the signal.

Puck jumped up out of his chair as well. "They're going to kill the witches."

Wes narrowed his eyes as his face darkened. "They're taunting us. Why else would they send this?"

Blaine already knew the answer. "They want to bring us to them, of course. This looks like a plan of my dad's. But I'll be honest; I don't think he's alive. Otherwise he'd be on the screen gloating right now."

"It's definitely coming from your dad's place," announced Mike.

"We can't let this happen," Sam stated. He started to say something else when something on the screen caught all of their attention. The double doors to the surgical room slammed open and two rogues dragged in a struggling and bloody Finn Hudson.

"_Fuck_," Blaine snarled. He felt his wings ripple under his skin as he realized they had Kurt's brother. Kurt loved Finn; that was his family, all he had left. He had screwed up, letting Finn, Quinn and Tina go back to the house. He hadn't even given them a second thought after the spell had failed on Sammy. He tightened his jaw and watched the screen.

Puck pounded his fist into his other hand. "He tracked her, he fucking tracked her. Mireles had Quinn in his sights the entire time. That's how he found your safe house to go after Kurt, because Quinn had been there. We slowed him down, but we didn't stop him."

More rogues carried in Tina Cohen-Chang. Her long hair was matted with blood that smeared across her cheek and neck. Her eyes were wide with terror.

Mike jumped up, his face furious. "_No!_ Not Tina!"

Blaine whirled around to see Mike had his knife in his hand and his eyes locked on the screen. He caught the eyes of Puck and Wes and motioned slightly with his head toward Mike. They both moved to flank him.

Blaine turned back to the screen. Antonio Mireles had strode into the room, dragging Quinn behind him by the arm. "Let them go, Antonio!" she cried.

Mireles ignored her. "Put Hudson on the table and the witch on the other table. Strip them both."

Finn fought them. He kicked out, catching one rogue square in the balls and dropping him. A punch to the face of the other rogue sent him careening into the cage holding the witches. Several other rogues jumped him, beating and cutting until they had him subdued and stretched on the table in the restraints.

What a fucking nightmare. "I'm going," Blaine said, heading for the door.

"I'm going with you," Mike ground out.

Blaine paused, ready to object.

Mike stood tall, his shoulders tense and dark eyes glittering with determination. "You can kill me if it happens. I want you to kill me if I go rogue. But before I go, I will take a whole fuckload of those bastards with me."

Blaine wanted to protect his men. But The Slayer had told them to protect the innocent. As he looked at Mike, Puck, Wes and Sam all moved to line up with him. Blaine nodded his head once.

A witch on the screen screamed. Blaine turned to see her being dragged from the cage by rogues. Mireles was giving them the witches in the cage as payment for bringing him Finn, Quinn and Tina. "Let's go."

"Oh my God! They have Finn! And Tina!"

Kurt stood in the doorway of the office, staring at the screen in horror. Blaine grabbed him by the shoulders. "I'm going after them, Kurt. I'll bring them home to you, I swear it."

Sam pushed by them. "I have men coming here to stay with Deirdre, Sammy and Kurt. They'll be safe."

Blaine kissed Kurt quickly and fiercely in reassurance, then ran out, followed by the rest of the Warblers.

* * *

Kurt stood in the office, eyes riveted to the TV screen on the wall. Fear churned cold in his stomach for Finn, Quinn and Tina. What was missing? Blaine was immortal now. But did Mireles know that? Kurt didn't think he did, but he felt sure someone else did.

Alistair Young. His father. He was in league with a demon, the very demon who created the blood curse and had given him the means to be able to kill Blaine. Young was using Mireles to lure him and Blaine to him.

The voices swirled in his head and he felt sick to his stomach. But what Kurt thought of was Elizabeth. _We have to outthink the demon and his witches. That's why we work hard to attain the knowledge chakra._

Kurt stood still, breathing deeply and evenly. He let his powers work, feeling the first four open easily with the familiar swooping sensation. The fifth chakra at his throat opened, followed by the sixth at his forehead. He saw a starburst pattern of light that faded with his regular vision as his third eye took over.

_Alistair Young, his father, raised his arm. The hideous blackened dagger on his arm bulged, raising and stretching skin. With a sickening whoosh, the thing burst from Young's arm. Kurt couldn't see where it went._

_Until it slammed directly into Blaine's chest, a direct hit to the heart. He saw his soulmate's shock of pain and felt him reach for him mentally. Checking to make sure he was safe before he died and left him alone._

Kurt fell to his knees in anguish and grief. His third eye went blind and his normal vision returned. But before he could gather his shattered thoughts together and try to focus, a violet colored mist swirled around him. The top of his head felt as though he had slammed it into a wall.

Chakra seven; the knowledge chakra. He'd done it, opened his seventh chakra. The violet mist stayed in front of him as he took him the incredible amount of knowledge there. There were spirits, demons, gods, so much more than just what was on the earth itself. Kurt felt himself giving in to the seductive pull, losing control and falling into a trance of endless studying. But a warm tingle from his necklace jerked him out of the compulsive absorption.

Blaine was in extreme danger! He could die!

His love for Blaine kept Kurt focused and he let his seventh chakra help him work it out and understand what he knew. His father had planned for Antonio Mireles to send the video to lure him and Blaine to them so they could kill them.

He had to be smart and understand what he was dealing with. Why did Alistair Young need him and Blaine dead?

The answer hit him, causing his eyes to widen in realization. Asmodeus had decreed it. The demon and The Slayer had grown up in the Underworld, where they had both learned their powers were tied to the earth. The Slayer created witch hunters to bring out his powers and give him somewhere to belong. He cared about the earth and her people. But Asmodeus needed earth to increase his own powers in the Underworld. He had cast the curse all those years ago to break The Slayer's powers and destroy witches and hunters. But soul mirrors were the loophole that would bring The Slayer back to power and threaten Asmodeus and his own quest for power. That was why the demon had appeared to Young and bribed him with the power of the Death Dagger to kill Elizabeth. He had commanded Young to kill Kurt because without him, Blaine, the future Hawk, would never have been whole. There would be no soul mirror and no threat to him.

Kurt understood that gods and demon's were only as powerful as their subjects made them. The choices made could either strengthen or weaken them. So he now had a choice. He could panic and lose, or he could do as his mother had done before him and outthink his enemies. He had the tools and he had the ability. He knew exactly what Asmodeus was and what he had to do. If he used his magic correctly, he would save Blaine and together they would help witches and hunters defeat Asmodeus.

Kurt jumped to his feet as the violet fog around him melted away. He whirled around to find Deirdre coming into the room with her. He rushed to her and grabbed her shoulders. "I have to go, Deirdre! He'll die if I don't! I saw it!"

Deirdre paled but remained calm. "There are two hunters here. I'll send them with you."

"No," Kurt shook his head. "They can't help and they need to stay here with you and Sammy. My blood will save Blaine, Deirdre. If I have learned what I should, my magic will protect me. I need salt." He darted down the stairs.

"We've got that," Deirdre said in a rush as she followed close behind him. "Here are my keys, you can take my car. Do you know how to find them?"

Kurt raised a hand to touch the wings at his throat. "Always."

* * *

**TBC**

**ittlebitz . tumblr . com**


	13. We Can Last Forever

**Title:** Hot Under My Skin

**Author:** Ittlebitz

**Pairing:** Kurt/Blaine

**Rating:** NC-17 over all, R this chapter

**Warnings for this** **chapter:** blood and violence, multiple minor character deaths, injuries, blink and you miss it homophobic slur, mention of near miscarriage

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee. And I don't own Kurt or Blaine, more is the pity. I survived the break up, now I am living for the make up. Bring it on, RIB, you jerks need to play nice with us. Blood Magic has provided a much better AU if you ask me...

**Author's Note:** I know this chapter took forever, and I am truly sorry. Dealing with real life reminding me that it owns me sometimes combined with post TBU feels, I just didn't have any writing mojo. But finally, I got past it, and I hope this was worth it. This is the last chapter, only the epilogue left! OMG, I can't believe it.

I want to thank each and every one of you who has supported and encouraged me through this story. Each review, each message on Tumblr, they all mean the world to me, and I am so grateful. My eternal love to my bestest friend and beta Sam, who has encouraged me all along and dealt with my flails and tears as I planned and struggled with this, and then taken her own personal time to brush the dirt off of it and shine it up into something pretty.

* * *

Between Mike's blueprints and the time Puck and Wes had put in scoping the place out, they had an excellent layout of Damian's place. Having decided to take advantage of his new capability, Blaine flew over the compound, meticulously surveying it from his aerial view. Everything he could see matched up with what they already knew, so nothing unexpected so far as he was able to tell. Blaine narrowed his eyes as he thought of his dad and what he had set in motion. Whether Damian was dead or alive, it would all end that night, one way or another.

Blaine landed at the designated meeting place a few hundred yards from the house. Wes' black Hummer skidded to a stop next to him and the Warblers piled out.

"I've got a group of hunters on standby for cleanup," Sam said. "First things first; we need to see how many witches are in there and if we can get them out." He paused for a moment before adding, "Alive."

"Once we kill Mireles and any other rogues inside, I can take care of the witches," Blaine stated firmly. He wasn't about to let any of his men go rogue if he could prevent it. "Have them stand down until we give the direct order."

Sam nodded and quickly sent a text relaying Blaine's directive.

Blaine looked around at each of his men, his closest friends, and nodded his head once. "Let's do this."

Shielding their presence, the Warblers moved with predatory silence towards the house. They made quick work of the rogues standing guard, Wes and Sam slitting their throats with deadly precision and dumping the bodies out of sight. Puck grabbed a rogue that was crossing from the house to the outer building and used his face to bypass the ultra sophisticated face recognition and retina scan security system before smashing his head into the nearest wall and stabbing him directly in the heart.

They entered the barracks cautiously, remaining invisible. There were two rows of single beds, each neatly made, but no rogues.

"I don't like this," Sam said in a low voice.

Blaine silently agreed but kept moving.

"Fuck, do you smell that?" Wes snarled as they reached the end of the barracks room. They could all smell the witch blood, but it was dying blood. The pungent scent grew stronger as they approached a door to the left.

"That used to be an exam room," Mike growled, tightening his grip on his knife.

"They are using them to kill the witches they take from the cages," Blaine said. He had to make a decision here. If he opened the door and the witches inside weren't dead yet, the blood smell would be overpowering to his men. "Mike, you and Wes check ahead and make sure it's clear to the surgery room."

Blaine knew Puck and Sam were nearby, even if he couldn't see them. "I'll go in first," he said, reaching for the door.

Before he could touch it, the door swung open and two rogues stepped out. "Let's go hit up Scandals and..."

The first rogue's voice cut off with a gurgle as Puck materialized and jammed his knife into his throat. The second rogue stepped back, looking frightened and reaching for his knife. But before he could raise any alarm, Sam stabbed him, giving his knife a vicious twist.

Blaine moved quickly past the dying rogues into the room. A grisly sight awaited him there; two stainless steel exam tables held dead witches, one with long red hair and pale creamy skin covered with scattered freckles, and the other had been a curvy brunette with short hair and a tattoo on one ankle. They were both naked, their bodies drained and marred with deep gashes and splattered blood. The desecration of these women angered Blaine and doubled his resolution to end this.

"Nothing we can do for them now. Come on, Blaine, we need to keep moving," Sam said from the doorway.

Blaine nodded. Sam was right. He turned away from the bodies, resolving to return in the end and find out who they were. He would give them the respect of letting their families know and make sure they got a proper burial, or ceremony, or whatever the witches did when one of their own passed on. The next room had three butchered witches. The rogues who had murdered them were nowhere to be seen. Blaine closed the door, pulse pounding in his ears as his anger grew. He had been deeply concerned for his friends, knowing the scent of witch blood could send them into a lustful craze, but so far the blood they had encountered was only dead or dying blood, which seemed to leave Puck and Sam unaffected. Their righteous anger probably helped to keep it at bay, as well.

They were moving quietly down the hall when a voice spoke up. "We found the control room."

Blaine turned towards Mike's voice. "Go on."

"I checked the cameras. Finn and Tina are strapped to tables in the main room. Quinn is tied to a chair. There's four guards visible on the camera and several more rogues in the kennel room that opens into the surgery room," Mike reported.

"A trap. We knew that," Blaine said.

"One more thing, though, Blaine," Wes spoke up. "Your dad's body, or at least what's left of it, is in the conference room. I would bet Mireles made his stand in there in front of an audience, and Damian's body was left there as a message to anyone who thought they might challenge him."

Blaine snorted quietly. His father murdered in his own compound that he designed himself. Appropriate. He wasn't going to waste any grief or pity on Damian, especially since he didn't feel any. He had more important things to think about. There were three people inside who were deserving of his protection and they were in serious trouble. They were the people Kurt loved, and Blaine couldn't bear Kurt's pain if any of them were killed.

It was time to make their stand. Time to show the world that The Slayer had returned and the Warblers would kick rogue ass in His name. "Let's go," Blaine ordered.

Moving stealthily to the door, Blaine quietly turned the doorknob and pushed the door open slightly. They needed to get a quick glance to know the lay of the room. The rogues inside were so focused on Mireles that they didn't notice the door had opened.

Mireles had untied Quinn and dragged her from the chair. He was holding one of her arms in a vise grip while keeping his knife to her throat. Blood was trickling from one corner of her mouth and her reddened eyes were wide and frightened. Finn was struggling on the table where he was held captive, snarling and swearing.

"Let them go! Don't hurt Finn, Antonio! He never touched me!" Quinn cried.

Mireles chuckled, the sound cruel and mirthless. "I'm sure he didn't. Can you blame him? Who would want to touch you? You're a crazy cutter."

Quinn's face flushed red and she struggled in Mireles' grip. "I am _not_! I never..." Her voice trailed off as her knees buckled and she nearly collapsed from the pain.

"Forget what you were saying, dear heart?" Mireles sneered.

Quinn curled forward as though she was folding in on herself. Then she jerked upwards, slamming her fist up under Mireles' jaw and knocking his head back.

"Quinn, _NO!_" Finn roared at the same time. He thrashed harder against the restraints holding him down, snapping one of them.

Blaine took advantage of the resulting chaotic uproar and burst into the room, followed closely by the Warblers. They shed their invisibility, ready to fight.

With a furious snarl, Mireles threw Quinn into the wall. He whirled around and lifted his knife. "Get them!" he yelled.

The rogues rushed at them, yelling out battle cries. More rogues poured into the room from the kennel room where they had been hiding. Blaine whipped to one side, avoiding several rogues that were rushing him and swiftly killing the two standing guard at Finn and Tina's feet. He then turned back to join the battle.

Puck and Wes were fighting back to back, killing with brutal, methodical swiftness. Mike had worked his way to the guards at Tina's head and killed them both. He crouched with his back to her, prepared to take anyone who came near her.

Sam was fighting with the group of rogues standing in protection of Mireles. He had killed several and was close to Mireles himself when a gunshot rang out. Sam stumbled back several steps before falling to the ground.

_"No!"_ yelled Blaine, stabbing the rogue he was fighting with and surging towards them. He froze to a halt when Mireles turned the gun on him.

"Where is Kurt?" Mireles sneered, his eyes hard and emotionless.

_Kurt_. Furious, Blaine unfurled his wings, wiping out several rogues as they whipped outwards. He grabbed Mireles by his shirt and lifted him into the air with powerful sweeps of his wings. Rogues that weren't injured or embattled jumped onto tables to try to rescue their leader.

Mireles roared in rage and swung his arm around, firing his gun. The bullet went through Blaine's arm, which merely pissed him off even more. Lightening quick, he buried his knife to the hilt in Mireles' chest, then threw his body to the rogues. He landed, ignoring the blood pouring from his injured arm. Wes, Puck and Mike were hard at work taking care of the rest of the rogues.

Blaine rushed to Sam and dropped to his knees next to him. The bullet had torn through his rib cage and possibly nicked his heart. Sam's breathing was labored and his eyes were closed. He would die if they didn't stop the bleeding. Blaine tore off his shirt and pressed it to the bloody wound. _Too much blood, damn it!_

_I'm coming, Blaine! Hold on. I won't let Sam die, I promise._

Kurt! Blaine could hear him in his head. He relaxed for a mere fraction of a second when he felt a new threat and stiffened. He rose quickly to his feet and whipped around toward the open door, knife at the ready.

Alistair Young stood there in the open doorway. Tall and imposing, with dark hair and eyes, he took in the scene before him before turning his gaze back to Blaine with a deadly calm curiosity. "Where is Kurt? It's sad, pathetic really, that one troublesome witch can bring down so many men."

_Kurt, do NOT come here. Stay away; don't come near this place! It's too dangerous!_ Blaine thought frantically. He knew Kurt could hear him. His nerves edged on panic when Kurt didn't answer him back.

Young crossed his arms over his chest. His tight shirt was short sleeved and showed the black Dagger of Immortal Death that lived in the burn mark visible on his right forearm. "Nice wings, by the way, Anderson. So you enjoy serving a witch? Being turned into an animal?"

Blaine glowered at him, mind racing as he tried to figure out how to get past the dagger on Young's arm to stab him in the heart. Crossing his arms was a casual enough move, but in reality Blaine knew Young was protecting his heart with the Dagger of Immortal Death. He stood between Young and his men. Sam lay deathly still on the ground and Blaine knew he would die if they didn't get him out and to help.

Shit.

"Kurt sends his regrets, but he isn't interested in meeting with you," Blaine stated flatly, gripping his knife tightly in anticipation of any chance to take Young down.

"He'll show up," Young said confidently, strolling casually into the room and looking up at the camera. "You know why, Anderson? Power. If he doesn't get his gay witch ass over here, I'm gonna kill his power source. That would be you." He dropped his arms and turned.

Blaine raised his arm for the death strike with his wing embossed knife.

Instantly, the smell of burning flesh filled the air as Young flung out his arm. The black dagger burst forward from his skin and rocketed towards Blaine's chest. Blaine hit the floor and rolled, grunting as he moved over dead rogues. He leaped to his feet, knife ready to go on defensive again as he watched Young warily.

The Dagger had already returned to Young's hand. He controlled it enough that he could call it back to him without touching it. That could only mean high stakes demon magic. Not good. Blaine kept his own knife ready and tried to figure out how he could possibly win against the Dagger. He knew Young was stalling, toying with him and using him to draw Kurt there.

"We have the witch!" someone yelled out triumphantly.

"No," breathed Blaine as two young rogues dragged Kurt into the room. He had three wounds that Blaine could see; a cut to his bare right arm, a slice to the left thigh that was staining the denim of his jeans a dark crimson, and another through his black t-shirt that pierced his side. His face was pale with the pain, but his eyes were steely and determined. His right hand was closed in a tight fist, and Blaine couldn't tell if he was injured there or if he was holding something. Kurt glanced quickly at Finn, and the remaining restraints holding him to the table snapped.

Kurt had his powers! Blaine could feel the vibration of them sweep over him as Finn was freed.

"Kurt!" Finn yelled as he painfully pushed himself to his feet, careful to avoid using his broken hand.

Kurt ignored his brother as he drew himself up to his full height. The two rogues holding him crumpled to the floor as though they had been drugged. He narrowed his eyes on the dark haired man in the corner, his eyes turning an icy gray. "Hi, Dad. Sorry I'm late for the family reunion."

"How did you kill them? You're an earth witch, for fuck's sake." Young's voice was tinged with irritation.

Kurt grinned humorlessly. "I didn't kill them, Alistair. I used a little sleep charm I learned from my mother. I bet you remember that one, don't you?"

"Kurt," Blaine warned in a low voice. He wasn't sure why Kurt was baiting Young, but he didn't like it. Kurt knew Young had the Dagger of Immortal Death, he had seen him kill his mother to get it. Blaine caught Puck's eye and inclined his head slightly towards the two sleeping rogues. Puck moved in a blur, killing them both.

Kurt didn't even flinch, and that's when Blaine understood what he was doing. Kurt couldn't kill with his powers without suffering the effects of witch karma, but Blaine and his men were more than capable of killing. Fierce pride warred with fear and anger. Kurt had let himself get captured to find him. Blaine stood between Young and Kurt, keeping his eyes on Young. _You have to get out of here, Kurt, it's too dangerous._

_I have a plan, Blaine. Trust me._

_Kurt..._

"You may be clever, but you're still an earth witch," Young growled. "I learned the hard way not to be played by witches. Cleverness is nothing against real power. You won't win."

Kurt tilted his head slightly and raised one shoulder in a shrug. "Well, I'm right here. Come and get me."

Young smiled evilly, and in the space of time that took, he blew past Blaine and got behind Kurt. By the time Blaine whirled around, Young was already throwing his arm around Kurt's neck. He shoved the Dagger against the bleeding wound on Kurt's side.

Kurt screamed in pain, his face blanching and his shimmer dimming to a dull gray. He struggled in Young's hold, pounding at his arm with his still clenched fist.

An obscene slurping sound filled the room and Blaine realized in horror that the Dagger was literally sucking Kurt's blood. Feeding the demon that owned it. The knife was growing fat and glistening with blood.

Blaine felt his heart stutter painfully and then kick into predator mode, ready to kill. He growled deep in his throat and the screech of his hawk reverberated through the room. He pumped his wings, lifting himself up in the air and surging forward. He landed next to Kurt and Young and struck in a flash, slashing deep into the arm that held the Dagger against Kurt.

"Blaine, no!" cried Kurt.

But it was too late. The Dagger ripped off of Kurt with a wet pop and disappeared.

_But where the fuck did it go?_

Pain exploded in Blaine's chest, slamming him backwards and to the floor. Stunned, he lifted his head and looked down. The Dagger of Immortal Death was buried to its hilt in his chest, embedded in his heart. White hot agony raced through him and the simple act of breathing was suddenly incredibly difficult. He could feel blood running down his chest as his vision started to grow dim. The dark wings of death coming for him, but he struggled against it, determined to protect Kurt to his final breath.

* * *

Kurt felt Blaine's shock and pain as though it were his own; white hot and then icy cold as his life slipped away, draining along with his blood. But his love wrapped around him and kept him anchored to his powers. Blaine's love kept him strong –strong enough to fight the evil of his father.

"Looks like immortality ain't all it's cracked up to be," Young laughed, the sound hard and cruel. His arm was still around Kurt's neck.

Puck, Mike and Wes all rushed toward Blaine with roars of devastation and fury. The Dagger rose out of Blaine's heart with a wet pop and swung at the Warblers, forcing them back. The three of them fought against it as one powerful force. Finn had Tina on the floor by Quinn and knelt down in front of them, protecting them despite his own injuries.

Young gloated as he toyed with the Warblers. "Weak. You're all so weak without the power of witch blood to sustain you. You're nothing against the real power of demons. We'll change you soon enough." His gaze hardened. "Or you'll die. Slowly and painfully."

While Young was distracted, Kurt reached deep inside himself to focus. He softly whispered, "Pure in whiteness, born of the earth, blessed by the sea, feared by darkness, embraced by light. Salt rise and circle your protection." He opened his fist and tossed the salt he had held into the air, mentally forming the circle of protection around the room and running the line between himself and Young.

Young's arm was dragged off his neck and his entire body was shoved back several inches. He bellowed in rage and lunged toward Kurt. But he bounced back as though he had hit an invisible barrier.

The Dagger was flung outside of the circle.

"What the fuck did you just do! You can't do this, I have the power of Asmodeus! You won't trick me with your witchcraft, not this time!" Young raged as he slammed bodily into the barrier again and again. He paced around the salt circle like a caged animal, unable to cross the barrier and snarling with each unsuccessful attempt to do so.

Kurt ignored him, dropping to his knees next to Blaine. Terror clawed at his insides as he felt Blaine separating from him. He could feel their souls being torn apart. Looking around frantically, he finally saw Blaine's knife and grabbed it. He pulled it across his palm, slicing it open and letting his blood flow freely.

Wes moved next to him, placing a hand tentatively on his shoulder. "Kurt..."

"Shut the fuck up. I'm not going to let him die!" Kurt snarled. He pressed his bleeding palm directly to the stab wound on Blaine's bare chest. His chakras were all wide open and weeping with him.

"_Please_," Kurt sobbed as he begged the Ancestors, "please save him. Help me."

Tina crawled forward and Kurt distractedly noticed she was now wearing a too big t-shirt that looked utterly foreign on her. She knelt next to him and placed her hands over his, adding her own power and light.

Kurt reached up to the wing pendant hanging around his neck with his free hand. "Slayer, hear me. Please hear me. I give your hunter my blood. I beg you to give him your breath."

The necklace began to glow. Light bloomed around Kurt and Tina's hands, bright against the bronze of Blaine's skin and the deep scarlet of his blood. His chest began to rise and fall with a regular ease and Kurt sobbed in relief as he felt the heartbeat under his hand grow strong and steady again.

Blaine opened his eyes, the bright hazel that Kurt loved shining clear and fierce.

"Thank you," breathed Kurt to both the Ancestors and The Slayer. He gave Blaine a small smile that wobbled as tears threatened to take him over again.

Blaine sucked in a deep breath and then snarled, "You won't be thanking them, witch, when I beat your ass. What the fuck were you thinking? You risked your life coming here!"

Kurt's smile grew as he felt Blaine's life force growing to full strength. The connection between them flared and sizzled with power. "I might have risked my life, but I saved yours. And that makes it worth it to me." He kept his hand on Blaine, giving him as much of his blood as he needed. "Puck, I need you and Wes to bring Sam over here. Gently, okay?"

Tina wrapped her arms around Kurt and hugged him tightly. "I'll help you, Kurt."

Puck and Wes returned quickly, carrying Sam carefully between them and laying him down next to Blaine.

Kurt lifted his hand carefully, a pleased noise sounding in his throat when he saw the nearly fully healed wound on Blaine's chest. He looked around, noticing someone was missing. "Where's Mike?" he asked.

"He went to oversee the cleanup," Puck answered. He glanced at Tina and added, "He basically ripped his shirt off and threw it at Tina, telling her to cover herself up, then ran out if here. He was in a pretty bad state, sweating bullets. The curse had him by the balls, pretty much."

Wes yanked Blaine's bloody shirt off of Sam's chest. The blonde hunter was unconscious, his skin pale and his breathing shallow. Kurt shifted to move closer to him. He glanced up at Puck.

"You and Wes should go over there by Finn. Get some space." The hunters seemed to be in control, even with Tina bleeding. But they were going to use magic. Now that his soul had bonded with Blaine's, the hunters didn't seem to notice Kurt's blood or magic. They would be able to feel Tina's, though, and he didn't want to put any of them at risk.

The two hunters nodded and moved away.

Kurt drew Blaine's blade across his other palm. This time he couldn't contain his wince or his grunt of discomfort as pain streaked through him.

"Damn it to hell, Kurt, stop that!" Blaine snapped as he pushed himself upright, obviously recovering and gaining his strength back at a fast rate.

Kurt laid his hand on Sam's chest, calling for the light of the Ancestors to aid him. Power rushed down from his upper chakras to flood his lower chakras, low and high magic blending to flow through him and down to his hand to pour out with his blood. He felt a surge of additional strength when Tina laid her hand on his shoulder, and nearly jumped when he felt Blaine's hands on his waist. Blaine settled behind him and next to Tina.

"Do you need my blood?" Blaine asked, watching Sam with concern visible on his face.

Kurt shook his head. "Just your strength this time. Your blood is already mixed with mine from healing you." He braced himself as Sam's pain slammed into him, but still nearly fell back. Blaine held him tightly as Tina let go of his shoulder and grabbed his wrist to help keep it pressed to Sam.

"Give me his pain, Kurt. Now!" Blaine demanded.

Kurt felt his energy obey Blaine's order. The pain moved between them in a circuit, lessening to a more tolerable level.

Sam stirred under Kurt's hand. "Kurt?" Sam said, his voice hoarse and weak. His eyes looked unfocused as they honed in on him. "What are you doing here?"

Kurt grinned down at him. "Oh, you know... the usual. Getting in trouble. Pissing off Blaine."

Sam chuckled weakly and coughed. "Well, thanks...for saving me and pissing Blaine off. It's good for him, you know. Builds character."

"Yep, he's gonna be just fine," Blaine growled, sounding grumpy. But Kurt could hear the relief lacing the words.

Suddenly an icy wind that reeked of burning flesh blew through the salt circle.

"This isn't over, Kurt Hummel, not by a long shot. Your mother tried to run, but I found her. And rest assured, I will find you, too. By Asmodeus' Dagger of Immortal Death, I'll find you. And when I do, I'll kill you, just like I did your whore mother."

Kurt whipped around to see Alistair Young glaring at him, his eyes blazing red demon fire. The Dagger was back on his arm, cauterizing the gash Blaine's knife had made. "I'll find you!" he howled as he spun away and vanished.

Blaine wrapped his arms around Kurt's waist and held him close. "What is it exactly that you did?"

"I set a protective salt circle to keep demons out. He wears the mark of the demon, Asmodeus. It was a risk, but I had a vision. I knew that..." Kurt's voice trailed off as he shuddered in remembrance. "I can't lose you, Blaine. I _won't_. I will find you every time you need me. Every damn time, do you hear me?"

Blaine tightened his grip, making Kurt feel safe and secure again. He pressed his lips to Kurt's neck before whispering, "I'll always need you, Kurt."

Kurt closed his eyes and leaned into Blaine's strength, feeling the heat of his skin and the touch of his hawk brushing softly against his body and in his mind. He finally knew where he belonged, and he was loved and valued for who he was and for his power and ability. He wasn't alone anymore.

"Kurt!" Finn's frantic cry caught everyone's attention. "It's Quinn! Oh, god, Kurt, Quinn's bleeding! The baby, she's losing the baby!"

* * *

"I've missed you so much, Mom."

Kurt reached out to touch the headstone that he had magically conjured for the woman who had sacrificed everything for him. Who had loved him unconditionally and been there for him and protected him to the best of her ability. The headstone bore her name, her date of birth and death, and her true legacy.

_Love is the real magic._

"I wish I could have met her," Blaine said quietly as he wrapped his arms around Kurt and pulled him back against his chest. The cemetery was empty at this late hour, but the bright light of the moon spilled over the stately headstones. "I want to thank her for loving you and protecting you until I found you."

Kurt smiled softly. "She knows." It wasn't his third eye or knowledge chakras telling him that, but his faith. His mother's soul had moved on to Gort Na Gréine, but her love stayed with him. He turned in Blaine's arms and wrapped his own around his hunter, smiling into his eyes.

Blaine ran his thumb lightly over Kurt's bottom lip, and even that small touch was full of love and possessiveness. "It's time to go home, Kurt. You spent all of last night and today with Tina taking care of Finn and Quinn. You need to rest. Let's go."

Kurt nodded. It had been a long night for sure. Finn had been badly injured, but he had fought it when he and Tina tried to heal him, insisting that they focus all their attention and energy on Quinn instead. They had worked hard together and gotten Quinn's bleeding to stop. Once she and the baby were stable, Finn finally gave in and let them heal his most serious injuries.

Kurt and Tina were still unsure about the baby. They had put word out on the Circles for any healing advice and hoped to hear something soon. They hoped the baby would survive to full term, but at that moment none of them were sure of anything. Kurt had already informed Quinn in no uncertain term that she would be on bed rest in the safe house until time for her delivery.

When Kurt had left, Finn had been asleep on the bed with Quinn, his body curled around hers and his newly healed hand resting protectively on her belly.

There was a long road ahead of them all. They had withstood so much pain already, and they were still at the beginning. But they were fighting to overcome the curse, to make things right. Kurt knew it couldn't happen all at once, but he believe they would succeed, he knew every choice they made counted.

They all mattered.

Kurt leaned forward to press his lips softly against Blaine's. "Thank you." He felt Blaine's lips turn up in a smile against his and smiled in return.

"For what?" Blaine asked, nipping softly at Kurt's lower lip and leaning in to nuzzle at the warm skin of his neck.

Kurt shivered lightly in response. "I've never felt as though I really belonged anywhere. But with you, I'm home. No matter where you are, you'll always be my home."

Blaine buried his face in Kurt's hair, breathing deeply of the unique scent he would know anywhere now. "And you'll be mine. I love you so much, witch. You are the love of my life."

"I love you, too," Kurt whispered. "Forever. I'll never say goodbye to you."

Blaine kissed him once more before leaning back and grinning at him. "Wrap your legs around me and hold on."

"Have some respect, Blaine Warbler!" Kurt scolded playfully. "What are we doing exactly?"

Blaine let his wings burst out and unfold. "We're going to fly." He held Kurt securely and leapt into the air, wings moving powerfully and carrying them into the night.

Kurt twined his arms around Blaine's neck as he felt the air dancing past them. He laughed delightedly. "You certainly know how to sweep a boy off his feet."

Blaine kept his gaze on the horizon but smiled and tightened his arms around Kurt. "You are my mate, Kurt. I was looking for you forever. And I'm never going to let you go."

* * *

**Coming up:**

**The Epilogue**

**ittlebitz . tumblr . com**


	14. Epilogue: part one

**Title:** Hot Under My Skin

**Author:** Ittlebitz

**Pairing:** Kurt/Blaine

**Rating:** NC-17 over all, I'll call this one a hard PG-13

**Warnings for this** **chapter:** language and sexual reference/innuendo

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Glee. I don't own Kurt or Blaine. I am torn between absolute joy and utter suspicion in face of all the beautiful spoilers we've been given, but I am enjoying the ride so far, I think!

**Author's Note: **Once again I find myself groveling for forgiveness over the tardiness of this. The holidays were insane for me and I was either exhausted or had no time for writing. And I had a death in the family after the first of the year, so yeah. No excuses, just reasons. I decided that it would be better to do the epilogue in two parts so that I could a) keep a tenuous hold on my so-called sanity, and b) get something posted sooner rather than later. This part tells how the other Warblers found their soul mirrors. I foresee a powerful witch circle forming...

And all my love and gratitude to my spectacular beta Sam, who braved this chapter that was written while I was feverish and medicated. God love her.

* * *

**_ ~Mike and Tina~ _**

_It was only a matter of time before Mike and Tina would discover they were soul mirrors. _

_Mike had the idea he might be in trouble the first time he beheld Tina's picture. Seeking the elusive Elvira had been intellectually stimulating on its own. Mike had always been a sucker for smart women. But he had literally lost his breath when he finally found her file on the DMV website. She was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, witch or not. Being near enough to smell her scent had nearly driven him insane, not the killing frenzy of bloodlust, but the desire to have her in his bed, soft, pliant and willing. And when he had touched her blood during the battle at Damian's and felt the powerful surge as his skin absorbed it, felt the prickle along his tattoo, he had known he was a goner._

_Tina's strength was put to the test by the strain and trauma of her experiences with the rogues at Damian's. Though she had borne the ordeal well, it was only days later that she began to have unsettling dreams. Not nightmares of being kidnapped, stripped and in fear for her life, but dreams of the quiet Warbler who had protected her as the fight raged around them. He had gently wiped the blood from her split lip before tugging off his shirt and tossing it to her, giving it to her to cover herself. He had left her quickly as the curse started to visibly affect him. But even with that, Tina found she wasn't afraid of him. Her dreams of him became more and more vivid and erotically sensual until she would wake trembling with desire rather than fear. _

_In light of their new found attraction to each other, they were initially awkward when in each others presence. Mike was terrified of giving into the raging lust coursing through him and Tina confused by the inexplicable pull she felt toward a hunter -something she had never thought would happen after all her negative experiences with them. They were careful not to be alone with each other, making sure either Kurt or Blaine, or both, were always nearby. But then, one night, Tina had a nightmare of being strapped to the stainless steel table again. Only, this time, instead of rescue, she was being slashed by rogues. Mike heard her screams of terror and had come running to protect her, his knife drawn and ready. When he touched Tina to wake her from her dream, they were overwhelmed by the power that suddenly surged through them both. Tina's chakras had responded to his touch with full force. Shaken, they had pulled apart as though they had been burnt. The next day they had said nothing about it to each other, instead pretending nothing had happened. _

_"I don't know what to do, Kurt," Tina said as she helped him measure herbs in the work room of the safe house. "Staying clear of hunters has been a way of life for me for so long now that this doesn't make any sense!"_

_Kurt turned to look at her, his expression serious. "What do you feel when you're around him?"_

_Tina shrugged, not meeting Kurt's eyes. "Scared, but maybe in a good way? Excited? Hungry? I mean, have you seen his abs? Ancestors above, but he's fit!"_

_Kurt clicked his tongue noncommittally, smiling secretly to himself. He had an idea of exactly what was going on._

_In Blaine's office, Mike sat in one of the chairs with his head in his hands, avoiding Blaine's knowing gaze. "How did you know, Blaine? How did you know Kurt was it for you? When did you stop wanting to kill him and start wanting to kiss him until he forgot who he was?"_

_Blaine chuckled. "Well, if you remember, that was one of the most confusing things about being around Kurt at first for me. I wanted in his pants way more than I wanted to cut him. It was pretty much from the beginning you know." He cleared his throat, then continued, his tone serious. "Have you considered that maybe Tina is your soul mirror? What about your tat?"_

_Mike sat up to look at Blaine with wide eyes. "Holy shit, Blaine. I didn't even..." And without finishing his sentence, he jumped up and tore out of the office to go find Tina. _

_Equal parts exhilarated and terrified, they began spending time together to learn how to work their spiritual connection, at first under Kurt's tutelage, and then alone. Their connection made Tina more balanced and focused in her magic and freed Mike of the blood curse that had held him for so long. Sex for both of them was suddenly more than just a means of release. It was a deep spiritual bond where each could let go and lose themselves completely in the other. _

_Mike knew Tina could take all of him and Tina knew she could let Mike past the walls of self preservation she had put up so long ago. And when they were ready, Blaine, as Hawk and leader, oversaw their commitment ceremony. Using his knife that had been blessed by The Slayer, he cut each of their palms and commanded that they press their hands together. As their blood mixed together, Kurt chanted spells of protection over them to help bind them. _

**_~Puck and Lauren~_**

_Much to everyone's surprise, "ladies' man" Puck was the next to find his soul mirror. _

_Puck met Lauren in typical unorthodox fashion; they were both after the same dirtbag. It turned out that Lauren was a bounty hunter herself, well-known in witch circles not so much for her spell casting as for her toughness, strength and ability to find even the most elusive criminals. When they met it was more a clash of titans, each vying to outdo the other to capture the criminal they were each after, Puck fighting the surging lust as Lauren fearlessly stood toe to toe with him and refusing to back down. They somehow managed to bring down their prey together and 'celebrated' by a long night of drinking followed by raucous, mind blowing sex at a nearby hotel. Puck had been stunned to not have to hold back. He knew by now what it meant to have sex with a witch that took full penetration. But Lauren was clever and skilled at casting a sleeping charm similar to the one Elizabeth used. When Puck woke up, Lauren's side of the bed was cold and there was no trace of her other than a faint lingering scent of verbena._

_Puck returned home and resumed his normal Warbler duties, but he was changed. He became restless, prowling Scandals with a vengeance and fucking his way through several women as though trying to forget his night with Lauren. When Blaine laughingly accused him of pining, he snarled angrily and lashed back with his knife. It earned him a thorough asskicking in return, as well as a threat from a terrifyingly angry Kurt who promised there would be hell to pay if Puck were ever stupid enough to attack Blaine again. Chagrined by his own actions, a subdued Puck avoided the club for several days, working his frustrations out in the Warblers' private gym. Sadly, it was just a matter of time until the restless itch of the curse became too much for him. He knew the only thing that would help curb it was sex or violence. As much as he wanted to go find some rogues and beat the hell out of them, Puck knew stirring dissent at the time was a bad idea._

_So, that was how he found himself flirting heavily with a striking brunette with incredible tits that were no doubt fake, but he wouldn't care when he had his face buried between them. Besides, she had legs that went on forever that would feel like heaven wrapped around him while he fucked her. He was toying with the thin strap of her tank top that was just barely holding her boobs in check when suddenly she was shoved violently to the side and the voice that haunted his dreams snarled, "Back the fuck up, nip/tuck Barbie, before you get Zized. This particular stud muffin belongs to me."_

_Puck refused to admit that his heart was pounding as his senses were overwhelmed with the sight and scent of **her**. He scowled at her, something that had made others quake in fear before, and snapped, "Excuse you, Puckasaurus doesn't belong to anyone..."_

_His words were cut off as Lauren tugged him to her and sealed her mouth to his. They shuddered in unison as Lauren's chakras flew open and her power rushed to meet Puck, running over and through him like electric heat. He didn't even realize he had Lauren pressed against the bar with one leg hiked, grinding against the heat of her, until he realized that the whoops and whistles he was hearing weren't coming from inside his head, but rather the crowd gathered around. He leaned back to grin at his witch, looking utterly besotted. Lauren adjusted her glasses and raised an eyebrow at him._

_"We could give 'em a show they would never forget. I'm up for it if you are," she smirked._

_"Fucking hell, leave it to Puckerman to have a female version of himself as a soul mirror." _

_Puck grinned at Sam's words. "You know it, man. Only someone just as badass as me could be my better half."_

_Lauren rolled her eyes. "Sweet talk will get you everywhere. Now please tell me you have a bed close by. We have some catching up to do."_

_"And who's fault is that?" Puck grumbled as he took her hand and led her out of the club._

_The Warblers watched in amazement as they left, affectionately bickering the entire time._

_Kurt shook his head. "I'd better think of some extra protection spells for their commitment ceremony. I think they're going to need it."_

**_~Sam and Mercedes~_**

_Sam kept himself busy with running the training program for hunters. Any hunters who wanted to take the Warblers' side in the fight against Alistair Young in an attempt to keep their souls were accepted and trained. Word that soul mirrors existed had gotten out, and there was a new sense of cautious hope among them, even though losing control was still a serious threat. But seeing their Hawk with his witch made each unattached hunter begin to dream of a better future, and Sam was no different._

_He had never really had any thoughts of a relationship beyond the one night stands he had found necessary to curb his bloodlust ever since he had gotten his first episode as a teenager. Women helped him curb the killing urge by giving him their bodies, and he had always been generous in return. He was a skilled lover, gentle and careful not to go too deep. And until recently, that had been enough. But now, watching Blaine and Kurt, Mike and Tina, and even Puck and Lauren, Sam had started to feel a niggling sense of dissatisfaction. He felt like there could be more to life for him, like there was someone who completed him and he needed to find them. It was a strange, new feeling considering he had never before felt that he was missing anything in the first place._

_But now._

_Sam decided he needed to find other ways to use his energy. So he put Puck and Lauren in charge of the training program and went to the Internet to find something he could do instead. When he found the ad looking for security detail at the nearby arena, he felt like he had found something that would work for him. It was a good fit. He was well liked by management for his good nature and strong work ethic, and it didn't hurt that his sheer bulk was usually enough to discourage any shenanigans by rowdy concert goers. Before long, he was in charge of the whole security crew, and guarding the performers himself._

_Everything was going smoothly until the night he knocked on the star-adorned door to escort the headliner, Mercedes Jones, to the stage. When she opened the door, the rich scent of power and lotus mixed with amber had him gripping his knife before he even realized it. Her eyes widened then went steely, and she raised her hands to defend herself._

_"Oh, hell to the no, hunter. There is no damn way, I don't care if witch karma does get me I will take you with me," she spat, power rolling off of her in waves._

_Sam realized what he was doing and quickly put his knife away. He stared at the angry witch in front of him and raised his hands to show he meant no harm. His palms itched with the urge to...not reach for his knife again, but to reach, instead, for the glorious woman who made his blood sing with something he had never felt before._

_"No, no, I'm sorry. I swear by The Slayer I won't hurt you," Sam stammered. He held his breath anxiously until he saw her relax the slightest bit, lowering her hands a bit. Cautiously, he reached out to take one of her smaller hands in his own, twining their fingers together. _

_Mercedes' gasp was matched by his own sharp intake of breath when her power swirled around them both as though the universe had finally aligned properly for the first time. They stared at each other wonderingly, each breathing heavily as if they had run for miles._

_"Miss Jones! Three minutes 'til curtain! You have to hurry!"_

_The panicked voice of the stage manager broke the near trance they were in and they quickly broke apart as if they had been caught doing something highly improper. Sam was surprised to realize that he was actually blushing, something he thought he had left behind long ago. Realizing he was hard and straining against his jeans made his blush that much deeper, and he had to take several deep breaths to try to compose himself. Each inhale was full of Mercedes' sensual fragrance, though, which did very little to help. He shook his head and cleared his throat nervously._

_"Might I escort you, little lady?" he asked in his best John Wayne voice, holding his arm out for her to take._

_Mercedes smiled brightly at him as she tucked her hand into the crook of his arm. The shock of power left them both breathless as they quickly made their way to the stage where the anxious crew waited for the diva to arrive._

_The newspapers the next day were filled with critic reviews saying that it was her greatest performance ever._

_In the privacy of the upscale hotel she was booked in, as she cuddled close to Sam's bare chest and listened as his racing heart slowed to normal, Mercedes would have disagreed. But then, not all performances were meant for the public eye._

**_~Wes and Sugar~_**

_Wes took a deep breath and steeled himself. Normally, he loved being at Comic Con; loved being surrounded by the hustle and bustle of activity and cosplay. His comics were always hugely popular and his name was a big draw for the convention. As usual, he had seen many people walking around dressed as various characters he had created. Surprisingly, there was a large amount of interest in the comic he had drawn for the Make A Wish foundation at the request of a kid who had leukemia. The silly comic called Nightbird, based on a teenage superhero and his sidekicks, had been wildly popular and had raised an obscene amount of money._

_All things that had given him enormous satisfaction-and gotten him laid plenty of times-in the past._

_But lately, he had been feeling...not uneasy, exactly, but he wasn't quite sure how to describe it. His fellow Warblers had all found their soul mirrors, their mates. Each of the men he considered closer than brothers had all been made whole and released from the curse that still held tight to Wes like a nightmare he couldn't wake from. While they all had found the witch that would complete them, Wes was still fighting the blood lust and losing himself in countless faceless women to maintain control._

_Nothing had ever come easy to him, so it wasn't like he was actually surprised that he was the only one who hadn't managed to find his soul mirror. Even that asshat Puckerman had found his, and Wes had quit taunting him by calling him pussywhipped when he figured out that all it did was make the shit eating grin Puck usually wore get even bigger. Besides, Lauren had hexed his tattoo ink so that it didn't get absorbed by his skin and a weekends worth of work had been wasted when he had to redo the tattoo. _

_Wes had to admit, Lauren was probably his favorite witch after Kurt. Her balls were even bigger than Puckerman's._

_Wes checked himself in the mirror of the dress area his people had led him to and sighed. He had gone for the dark, brooding artist look, which come to think of it, was pretty accurate. His black jeans were tight and tucked into tall combat boots with red laces to match his colored spikes of hair. He wore a black leather vest with no shirt under it, open to show the elaborate dragon that covered his chest. His arms were on full display as well, tattooed and muscular. He took a moment to line his eyes with black, something Tina once told him made him look hot, and got ready to leave. He was expected at a panel in half an hour, so, if he left now, he could take his time and enjoy some of the sights along the way. He had already seen several elaborately costumed women that would, no doubt, make his time pass enjoyably, and had gotten enough appreciative glances his way to know any advances would be well met. They always were._

_Why was he all of a sudden not looking forward to it?_

_Wes rolled his eyes at his own stupidity. He just needed to find a willing woman to fuck, business as usual. The prickling of his skin was probably just the curse raising its ill tempered head. He twisted his neck to the side just enough to pop it, took a deep breath and walked to the curtain that separated this area from the main area. He threw the curtains apart and stepped out, only to nearly collide with someone. _

_"Jesus, I'm sorry," he began, when his eyes widened. The gorgeous woman giggling and apologizing to him was dressed as Sweet and Spicy from his comic, and she looked exactly as he had pictured her. Hell, she looked better. Fuckable, even. He opened his mouth to apologize again when her scent washed over him and his throat went dry as his blood sizzled with the beginnings of the lust._

_Fuck his life. Of course she was a witch. _

_"Oh, my god, you're Wes Montgomery! I'm Sugar, Sugar Motta, and I'm such a huge fan, as you can tell. I can't believe I nearly-" her smile fell as her words broke off and her face paled in horror as she stepped back. "Ancestors help me, you're a hunter."_

_Wes raised a hand to...he wasn't sure. Reassure her? Pull her closer so he could drown himself in the rich smell of ylang ylang mixed with spicy witch power? His head was spinning from the blood rushing through him and he was stunned to realize it wasn't from the urge to kill her but from the urge to bury himself deep inside her until she screamed his name in ecstasy._

_Sugar stepped back another step, fear plain on her face. "I warn you, I'll scream. My daddy is very powerful, even if he isn't a hunter and he has lots of powerful friends."_

_Wes shook his head again, trying to rid himself of the buzzing in his head. He felt a sudden ripple in the dragon on his chest and he knew in a moment of absolute clarity that he couldn't let this woman get away from him._

_"You've nothing to fear from me, gorgeous. I'm one of Blaine Anderson's Warblers, sworn to The Slayer to protect earth witches. I promise you, I can control myself, I've had lots of practice," he said, giving her the winning grin that had charmed many a willing female out of their panties before. _

_The look she gave him was a mixture of skepticism and lingering fright. Wes fought the urge to frown. He didn't want her looking at him with fear. He wanted her as she had been before, with eyes bright and sparkling and a wide smile._

_"You're one of the Warblers? How do I know you're telling me the truth?" Sugar asked, her voice trembling slightly. She flinched as her back hit the wall, trying not to panic as the huge hunter loomed over her, looking as though he wanted to eat her whole._

_"I swear it on my knife. The Slayer himself can strike me down," Wes said softly as he stepped closer. Unable to resist, he reached out to cup one of her cheeks, needing to know if her skin was as soft as it looked._

_It was like being struck by lightning. As soon as their skin touched, wind from out of nowhere swirled around them as Sugar's chakras opened and her powers rushed to meet Wes. Sugar had always been a girl who knew what she wanted and when the impulse hit her, she always went with it, whether she fully understood it or not. She reached for Wes and pulled him to her, kissing him frantically and more passionately as her powers raged between them. Her mother had always chided her about her lack of control, but suddenly everything seemed in focus and **right**._

_When they finally parted, they stared at each other in awe, ignoring the shocked whispers of the crowd that had gathered. Wes ran a thumb tenderly over her lips and leaned down to press his forehead to hers._

_"**Mine**. My witch. I finally found you," he whispered._

* * *

**TBC**

**Coming up: the final battle and conclusion!**

**ittlebitz . tumblr . com**


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